Text Copyright © 2012 Sarah West

All rights reserved

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the family and friends who supported me and helped me through this five-year long process.

Thanks to my mother, for bringing home all of those pirate picture books from your elementary school library; thanks to Kevin, for being the first to read through my final manuscript; thank you Carolyn for your incredible editing; thank you Leah for calling me after every chapter to tell me how proud you were of me; thanks Lizzie, for your honest comments; thank you theater girls, for getting intoxicated and reading my steamy scenes out loud and making me laugh; thanks to my friends who knowingly (and unknowingly) lent me the use of their names for my characters; thank you Alli, for your last minute Spanish corrections; and thanks to everyone else who helped me bring Logan and Amber to life.

It started out as a joke, but turned into a passion.

Table of Contents

Title page

Copyright

Dedication

Table of contents

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Chapter One

Boston, Massachusetts 1714

Amber Townsend nervously paced the length of the library, her tea untouched and sitting on the desk, having dropped to room temperature some time ago. Each turn sent her dress rustling about her heels, a well-worn path already driven into the carpet by her incessant ambulation.

“I don’t understand why you are working yourself into a frenzy.”

Amber spun and sent an icy glare at her uncle, Neil. “I don’t understand how you can be so unaffected by the news that your only sister is lying on her deathbed!”

He shrugged and took another sip of his brandy, reclining easily in the plush armchair. Seething with anger, she stormed over, snatched the glass from his hands and tossed the contents into the fire. The flames roared to life as she returned the crystal to the mahogany bar, slamming it down next to the decanter. He frowned at her and pulled off his glasses with his grubby fingers, cleaning them on his shirt.

“In my opinion, your mother was far too lenient in her child-rearing habits. She never should have allowed such passion and independence. Such character flaws might prevent you from ever finding a husband, especially as you are almost past a marriageable age.”

“I’m only twenty-three.”

He brushed away her comment and continued, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting it as he spoke. “A woman must learn to be quiet and demure, and above all else she should never lose her temper.”  He sent her a pointed look,  “In my opinion.”

“Yes, well, nobody asked for your opinion,” she said with a sigh. “So I must ask you to keep it to yourself.” But as much as she disliked her uncle and made an effort to ignore him, his sentiment was shared by many. As a child she had been a whirlwind of mischief and a constant irritation to her tutors, and on more than one occasion had been the catalyst behind their resignations. Despite her impish nature, however, she was extremely bright, and as she grew older she became more interested in her studies, and began to channel her curiosity towards learning.

As for finding a husband, her uncle was right in that she simply wasn’t having any luck. Over the years she had met several young men who claimed themselves enchanted by her vibrant red hair and vivacious personality. But after a few weeks of flirtations and empty promises her suitors would appear at a social event with a new, more respectable girl on their arms. The first time it happened she had been a naïve girl of sixteen, and had felt the snub as a crushing blow.

Her mother had been there that night to brush the tears of shame from her cheeks and convince her that it was through no fault of her own she had been fooled. “Have you considered the possibility that Jonathan did harbor feelings for you?” she had asked her heartbroken daughter, trying in vain to console her. “But perhaps the Martins had already arranged for him to wed the Howard girl. It’s not uncommon for a young man to be torn between his emotions and duty to his family.”

Amber let out a bitter laugh. “If he had cared for me I doubt I would have overheard him telling his friends that I was a “gullible little chit,” and that I was “hopeless.””

Molly had pulled her daughter into a hug. “You are not hopeless, dear, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re just waiting for the right man.”

Several years and a string of failed romances later, she was still waiting. With her mother’s poor health Amber had even less time to worry about marriage, as her responsibilities and worries grew with each day that Molly did not recover.

Neil sat in his chair watching her as he smoked his cigar. “You know what would help you calm down? Some brandy. It’ll settle your nerves. And if you’re pouring yourself a glass, might as well get me one too.”

Just then the library door swung open and Jane, the housekeeper, poked her head in.

“The doctor says you may see her now,” she informed Amber with a grave expression. As Neil began to stand, she raised a hand to stop him. “Not you.” He sank back into his chair as Amber gathered her skirts and followed Jane through the corridor toward her mother’s apartments.

She reached the bedroom doorway and stopped, as if by refusing to enter the room she could prevent the horrible scene from unfolding. Her mother was lying prostrate in an exquisite four-poster bed that they had brought from England. A settee was arranged in front of a fireplace, on either side of which were tall bookshelves displaying a section of her mother’s extensive library. A thick carpet protected their feet from the cold wooden floors in the winter, and thick draperies blocked most of the light from the room, which was now lit by a single lantern set on the table beside the bed.

Doctor LeCourt leaned over the bed to wipe Molly’s forehead with a damp cloth, eliciting a soft whimper from between her dry, cracked lips. The clock on the mantle read a quarter after four in the morning, but as her mother’s condition worsened the doctor had taken to remaining at her side day and night. He had done all he could for Molly, but even his best efforts had proven futile.

When Amber had sent for him three weeks ago informing him of her mother’s fever, he had paid them a visit and declared that with a bit of tea and rest she would soon be on her feet again. Amber sent a second messenger a week later after her mother had become delirious, slipping in and out of consciousness, sometimes waking with no knowledge of where she was. Other times she would appear alert and healthy, giving Amber hope that she was recovering. Just the other day, she had been sitting up in bed, listening to her brother reluctantly read to her. Her eyes were bright as she applauded him and encouraged him to continue.

“Please go on, you know how I love to listen to you, Robert.” Neil had frozen, unable to meet her gaze or keep reading. Never having met Amber’s father and not wanting to be mistaken for him, he quickly removed himself from the house, most likely to visit the nearest tavern and drink himself into a stupor, as was his habit.

Feeling that she shouldn’t wait any longer, Amber sat down on the bed next to her mother, taking a cold hand into her own. Molly’s eyelids fluttered for a few seconds, then opened, her unfocused eyes scanning the room before settling on her daughter. Amber held her breath as she watched to see if her mother would recognize her, exhaling quickly as Molly gave her a weak smile.

“Hello.” Her voice was soft and scratchy, and the exertion of speaking sent her into a fit of coughing. Amber helped her to sit upright and take a sip of water.

Molly turned her head and located Doctor LeCourt sitting by the bed.

“I am dying, aren’t I,” Molly said as a statement, rather than a question. He nodded. She turned back to Amber, and upon seeing the tears that had begun to fall in earnest, gave her hand a weak squeeze. “Now, I’ll have none of that. No more crying.” Amber swallowed heavily and forced her non-compliant mouth into a smile. “That’s better,” her mother said, satisfied. “Now Amber, when I’m gone, you must return to England and find your father’s sister, Elinor. She is married to Alfred James. Find them, and they will take you in without reservation. Through them you will enter London society. That is where you belong.” She coughed, her frail body shaking with the effort.

“Please, don’t say any more,” Amber pleaded, not wanting to hasten her mother’s already fast-approaching death.

Molly smiled and squeezed her daughter’s hand with her remaining strength. “Ah darling, I see now where I went wrong. I should have disciplined you, crushed your independence. But God forgive me, I couldn’t find the willpower to let you be anything other than yourself. I hope my mistakes don’t haunt you.”

Amber’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Mother, what on earth are you talking…” she trailed off as Molly’s eyes slowly slid shut, her hand slipping from her daughter’s grasp and falling limp at her side. “Mother?” she whispered, tears rolling down her face. Doctor LeCourt leaned over and pressed his fingers to the side of her throat, then looked up at Amber and shook his head.

Upon that silent confirmation that her mother was truly, and permanently, gone, Amber buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

Doctor LeCourt watched her quietly, then began to prepare her mother’s body. As he lifted her arm to cross it on her chest, he noticed a piece of paper clutched in her fist. He loosened it from her grasp and unrolled it, staring at it for a moment.

“Miss Amber?” She sniffed and lifted her head, turning towards the doctor. “I found this in your mother’s hand. I think it was meant for you.” She tucked it into her pocket without reading it as he gathered his supplies and stood.

She used her sleeve to rub the tears from her face as she got to her feet. “Thank you Doctor, for doing all that you could.”

He cupped her shaking hands with his own and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Do you know what you will do now?”

“No, but I suppose I’ll figure it out.”

He nodded. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Amber, for your loss.” His steps were quiet as he turned and left the room, leaving her alone with her mother.

The whole scene was surreal. The first ray of sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains was promise of a beautiful morning, but the atmosphere in the room was gloomy and cold. Molly lay so peacefully in her nightgown that one would believe she was sleeping. The idea that her mother, her closest friend was gone…It was impossible for Amber to grasp. The emptiness in her heart was the only proof that the whole situation was real, and not some terrible nightmare.

The sun was beginning to rise when Neil pushed open the door to the White Stallion Pub and Inn, pausing to absorb the comforting sights and sounds, inhaling the aroma of the room. In the far corner a group of men sat around a table, a heated card game in process. Other men watched, placing bets and calling the next game, while still others sat scattered throughout the room.

Neil wove his way towards the back, seeking out his favorite table. Luckily for him it was empty this cold morning. He collapsed into the chair and waved down the barmaid, ordering a pint. As he drank, he thought not about his sister, but about how he would settle his latest debt.

“Only ale today?” came a lighthearted voice behind him. Neil turned and watched through narrowed eyes as Nathan Andrews settled next to him at the empty table. “Last week you were buying everyone in the Marina Pub shots of whisky!”

“Last week I was celebrating the financial success of a business venture I was involved with.”

“What kind of business venture?” Nathan asked.

“Let’s just say I was in the trade business, and leave it at that. Smith told me about an investment opportunity.”

“Was this the smuggling deal he was bragging about?”

“Keep your voice down,” Neil sent an anxious look around the tavern, relieved to see that nobody had turned to listen to their conversation. “I wasn’t smuggling, just…providing the monetary support for a worthy cause.”

“So what happened?” asked Nathan.

“I poured all of the money I owned into the project, even borrowed some, too. The first ship made port a fortnight ago and the cargo was sold almost immediately. I started seeing my money again, and we all felt confident that the next couple of ships would arrive without any complications. We thought we would be living like kings in a month’s time.”

“Let me guess…the other ship never made it?”

Neil glowered at the other man. “If it had, would I be in this seedy pub, drinking ale with the likes of you? No, the damn ship was boarded by pirates four nights ago. They emptied it of all the cargo and set it ablaze. The first mate barely escaped with his life, said he had to tread water until another ship picked him up. That’s how we found out about the whole sordid event.”

“What are pirates doing this far north?”

“Do I look like a damned pirate expert to you?” He downed the rest of his drink. “It is strange, however. It’s almost as if they knew where the ship would be.” He slammed his fist against the table, knocking over his empty mug. “Blasted pirates. I was this close to having more money than I would know what to do with, but it looks like I’ll be living in my sister’s house until I can think of a new way to pay off this debt.”

Nathan gave an unattractive snort. “From what I’ve heard, Molly’s been a right saint, taking you in. Lord knows you haven’t been much of a brother, stealing things from right under her nose. It’s a shame she keeps catching you, though.”

“I doubt I will run into any more problems with Molly. She died an hour ago,” he said, staring at his mug.

“Sorry to hear that,” Nathan responded, his tone suggesting that he was not sorry at all. “But now you can sell the house and use the money to settle your debts.”

“You’re forgetting about my charming niece, Amber. She’ll never agree to that.”

A loud roar went up in the room as the card game ended, the victor sweeping his winnings off the table and into his hat. There was a bit of shuffling as men moved and switched chairs, then settled down to play another hand. The winner tossed the innkeeper a coin and strolled from the pub with an arrogant stride. Neil watched him with envy, painfully aware that his own pockets contained only lint.

“You know, that Amber’s grown into quite the woman in the past couple of years,” Nathan said with slow determination. Neil turned to him in disbelief. “I remember the first time I saw her. She was a gawky kid, just in from playing outside. Covered in dirt, her hair a tangled mess, and she had even ripped a stocking. But now,” he added, taking a sip, “she’s grown into quite a pretty young thing, hasn’t she? Nice and curvy, soft in all the right places. Even that hair makes her look appealing.”

“Don’t get any ideas. That girl has more spirit then even her mother. All that passionate Irish blood, it isn’t good for her. How is she supposed to find a husband if she’s always bossing him around?” He frowned. “Come to think of it, she’ll probably send me packing as soon as I return home. I’m going to need a new place to stay while I get back on my feet.” He looked at Nathan expectantly.

Nathan laughed. “Sorry, there’s no room in my house for another drunk. My wife would kill me if I brought in a stray. Come on; let’s go join that card game. I’ll even lend you the money so you can play,” he tempted, rising from his chair and waving his wallet in Neil’s face. “Maybe today your luck will change.”

It was dusk when Amber finally sat down to rest. After running around and making preparations for her mother’s burial she was exhausted, and grateful for the opportunity to stop and think.

The library was empty, her uncle never having returned. She imagined he was visiting his favorite haunts in town, gambling away his sister’s money and drinking. So often did Neil come to Molly for money to pay off his gambling loans that he eventually moved right on into the house with them, living like a parasite on the family’s back.

Amber poured herself a cup of tea and then settled into her favorite armchair by the fire, newly laid by one of the servants. Holding the teacup in both hands, she lifted it to her nose and inhaled the calming vapor. She took a sip. With a sigh she leaned back in the chair, her gaze falling on the portrait of her mother above the mantel.

It had been painted upon their arrival in the colonies, when Amber was seven. To anyone else, the portrait depicted Molly Townsend as a beautiful, happy young woman, but Amber knew her mother, widowed by then, well enough to notice the sadness etched in her face, and the absence of the crinkles that appeared next to her eyes whenever she smiled.

She still couldn’t believe her mother was dead. The illness had come on so suddenly, and in the chaos surrounding her fever and delirium, Amber hadn’t even given a thought to how she would live without her.

Only a month before they had been planning a trip to the coast, where they were going to stay with friends and spend their days on their favorite section of beach. It was a small sandy stretch isolated from the town, offering them privacy and an unobstructed view of the ships rolling into the harbor. Molly was looking forward to relaxing and napping in the shade. Amber was eager to curl up with a good book and read it cover to cover in one sitting, only taking a break to eat a picnic lunch of cold meat, bread, and cheese. In the afternoon she would peel off her shoes and stockings and walk along the water’s edge, collecting seashells and interesting rocks, discarded snail shells, and bits of seaglass. Her room at home was already filled with baskets of beautiful collections, and she was anxious to add to them.

All her life she had felt at home near the water, both in England and in Boston. She learned to swim at a young age, an event Amber remembered clearly—one of the memories she had of her father before his death. It had been a particularly sunny day, and he had taken Amber on a long walk through the forests lining the rear of his estate. She had worn a simple day dress, and together they walked for what seemed like hours. It was midday when they reached the small pond in the middle of the wood, the cool water inviting.

“Do you want to go in?” Robert Townsend had asked his four and a half year old daughter, who stood only as high as his waist. She looked up at him, and then back at the pool, the desire evident on her face. When she smiled at him he had to laugh, for she had prematurely lost her front tooth after falling from a tree, and it made her all the more endearing. He stripped off his coat, waistcoat, and cravat, setting them in a pile next to a willow tree. He then bent down to unbuckle his shoes, and lost his balance pulling off his stockings, sending Amber into a fit of giggles. He stood up straight with his hands on his hips and regarded her with a smile, wearing only his breeches and shirtsleeves. “Your turn, little monkey, take off your stockings. Your mother will punish me if we ruin another pair.”

“Won’t she be mad if we get my dress all wet?”

“Good thinking, Amber,” he said, ruffling her hair. He loosened the bow on the back of her dress, and then waded into the water, turning in time to watch her fold her dress and lay it on top of his clothes, careful not to let any part of it touch the ground. He smiled to himself as she approached the water in her chemise and petticoat, hesitating before dipping her toe in. “Ready?” he asked, his arms spread wide.

She nodded, and began to splash her way into the clear water. Within seconds she had reached her father and flung herself into his arms, laughing as he swung her around.

He spent the rest of the afternoon teaching her how to hold herself afloat, and how to use her arms and legs to propel herself forward. Amber couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day; the sun warm on her back, the water cool and refreshing, and her father by her side. By the time the pair returned to the manor the sun had already begun to set. Molly looked at their elated faces and damp hair.

“You took her to the pond?” she asked with a knowing grin.

Robert flashed her a dazzling smile and brushed a lock of brown hair from his eyes. “Your daughter is a brilliant swimmer. I closed my eyes for one moment, and when I opened them she had gone. I was afraid she turned into a fish and had swum away from me.”

“Papa, I’m not a fish,” she scolded him, shaking her head and sending her curls bouncing at her shoulders.

“No? Then what are you?”

“I’m your little monkey!” she cried, shocked that he would fail to remember such an important title.

“Ah, little monkey, how could I forget?” he said with a chuckle, swooping her up and onto his shoulders. “Come little monkey, it’s time to wash up for dinner.”

Amber returned to the pond every day for weeks, sometimes with her father, sometimes with her mother. Her mother chose not to swim with her, but would sit in the sun and read a book, keeping a close eye on her daughter and applauding her accomplishments. Amber loved it best when both her parents came with her. Robert would take turns swimming with his daughter and lying in the grass with his wife, and would sometimes even convince Molly to join them.

Returning to the present, Amber stared into the fire blankly, her eyes dry. She had no more tears left.

She lifted the cup to her lips again and recalled the summer her father had taught her how to ride a pony, and then surprised her with a Shetland of her very own for her eighth birthday. She had named him Leonato from Much Ado About Nothing, the play her mother had been reading to her.

She remembered her father’s hunting dogs that she had befriended, despite his countless warnings that they were not pets. He had been slightly irked that his hounds would stop whatever they were doing whenever Amber appeared, their tails wagging in anticipation of whatever treat she had in her pocket. Instead of chastising her for stealing scraps of food from the kitchen, however, he would wait patiently for her to finish feeding them and then shoo her away so as not to distract the dogs further. And when his prize bitch gave birth he let his daughter have the pick of the litter. She selected the runt and named him Caesar, visiting him daily until he was old enough to be separated from his mother. Caesar had been her best friend until she had had to move, forced to leave him in England.

The afternoon that her mother had come into her bedroom, her face pale and sunken, was another vivid memory. She had been curled up in the window seat with an apple and a book, absently scratching Caesar’s head in between turning the pages. Amber had immediately known that something was different about her mother as she entered the room.

In the space of one day, Molly Townsend seemed to age ten years. Wrinkles were apparent that had never been there before, and her eyes were somber, lacking their usual vibrancy. Amber got to her feet, the book sliding off her lap and onto the floor.

“Mother? What’s wrong?”

Her mother swallowed heavily. “Amber, darling, there’s been a terrible accident. Your father was thrown from his horse.”

“Is he going to be all right?” Her mother didn’t answer, but her reply was unnecessary. Reading the grief-stricken expression on her mother’s weary face, Amber knew at once that her father was dead. Unable to control herself any longer, Molly had begun to cry, and she crumpled to the floor with her daughter in her arms.

Almost as hard to bear, Amber recollected, was the news of their immediate departure for the colonies. She knew her mother had lived in Boston, Massachusetts before moving to London a month before her seventeenth birthday. It was there that the Irish beauty fell in love with Lord Robert Townsend and made the decision to stay in Europe. She would sometimes tell Amber stories about Boston, expressing her desire to return someday.

Independent and proud, the newly widowed Molly could not bear the sympathetic glances that she received every time she made an appearance in public. And so she decided to take her daughter back home with her across the sea, where they could live without being pitied.

It was then that Amber remembered the slip of paper in her pocket. Setting her teacup on the end table she reached in and pulled it out, unfolding it. It was a small piece of parchment, on which had been scribbled in her mother’s familiar handwriting: A Midsummer’s Night Dream.

Amber studied it, turning it over and searching it for more writing. Save for an ink stain in the corner, the only thing on the paper was the title of her favorite book. Her mother would read it to her as a child, and then when she was older, she would take the tattered copy out into the garden and re-enact the scenes. The hanging branches of the willow trees provided the curtain for her make-believe stage, and with a flower garland about her head she would escape into the magical realm of fairies and love triangles. She remembered getting scolded when a sudden downpour of rain sent her running inside, clutching the muddy book to her chest and apologizing, not understanding her mother’s anxiety regarding the welfare of that particular play. Amber wondered now if it had something to do with why she had written it on the strip of parchment she clutched in her hand as she died.

She quickly finished her tea, then followed her feet toward the far side of the room, where her fingers automatically reached for the book and pulled it from the shelf. The creased spine cracked as she flipped through the pages, stopping at her favorite scene. She smiled as she scanned the lines, each one still committed to memory.

Taking the book, she moved to the desk and sat studying by the light of the fire. She read for two hours, stopping to analyze any passage that might provide insight to her mother’s cryptic note. When she reached the final lines, Else the Puck a liar call;/ So, good night unto you all./Give me your hands, if we be friends,/And Robin shall restore amends, she knew no more than she had when she started. She shut the book with an exasperated sigh and rubbed her throbbing temples.

“How are you holding up?” Amber jumped at the sound of her uncle’s voice, her elbow knocking the book off the table.

“What are you doing back so early?” she asked sardonically, as she bent to pick it up.

He snorted. “Early?”

Glancing at the clock, Amber realized with a surprise that it was nearly one in the morning. She set the leather tome onto the table with a heavy thump. “I guess I fell asleep. Where have you been all day?”

Turning red, he inched towards the door, his hands tucked behind his back. “Oh, here and there.” She could smell the alcohol on his breath from across the room. “I uh, have a friend waiting downstairs, and I was just about to show him out…” He stumbled over his own feet.

“Uncle Neil?”

He paused, halfway into the hallway. “Yes?”

“Put the candelabra back on the mantle, please. And tell your friend you’ll pay him back out of your own pocket.” His sunken face flushed as he replaced the sterling silver candleholder.

“Ungrateful child…too much spirit…” she heard him mumbling as he stormed out. Amber rolled her eyes, her gaze falling on the open book.

With curiosity, she noted that the lining on the inside cover had come unglued in the top left corner. She ran her fingers along the perimeter of the lining, disappointed when she came across no other imperfections. But then she felt a slight bulge in the center.

She reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a letter opener, sliding it into the flap where the lining had pulled away from the leather. Carefully she separated the two, and as the lining pulled away she could see a folded piece of paper tucked inside. Triumphantly she pulled it out, tossing the lining and the book to the side and unfolding it, her heart fluttering wildly.

Her breath caught in her throat as she scanned the page. It was her father’s will, dated sixteen years ago. She quickly read through it, noticing nothing out of order. He had left his prize thoroughbreds to his sister, his celebrated greyhounds to his cousin in Wales, and the rest of his estates to his wife, to be passed on to his daughter.

Then she read the final sentence, and for the second time that day her blood turned cold. “In the case of my wife’s death, control of the estates shall go to Amber’s guardian until she is wed to a suitable gentleman, with a title equal to or greater than her own.”

Her knuckles were white as she clenched the will, a feeling of devastation washing over her. Her mother had been seeking to protect Amber all these years by hiding the will from her uncle. The scribbled note was a warning.

Letting the will flutter to the floor, she dropped her head into her hands. Her father had been a Baron, though her mother had relinquished the title of Baroness upon his death and her departure from Europe. This meant that Amber must herself wed a baron, a viscount, an earl, a marquis or a duke. She had no way of knowing how she would accomplish such a feat, but she was aware of one thing:  she would have to travel to England immediately and rub noses with the elite, hoping and praying that one of them would find her an agreeable enough companion to marry. And then she would have to relinquish what she prized the most—her independence.

All because she could not let control of her family’s wealth fall into the greedy hands of her uncle. Her gut twisted at the thought of her beautiful home being sold, piece by piece, to pay off bets Neil made and lost while he was intoxicated. She couldn’t let that happen.

She retrieved the will from the floor and slipped it back into its hiding spot beneath the lining of the book, careful to seal up the edges again. Then she tucked it under her arm and returned to her bedroom. She didn’t bother to turn on any lamps. She just slid the book under her mattress, climbed into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Two

“Logan darling, I really wish you wouldn’t go. Please stay the night?” Logan Jeffries turned as he finished buttoning his breeches, sending a devastating smile down at Alyssa Landon.

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m not one for confrontation if I can avoid it. Though the offer is extremely tempting,” he said as his gaze raked her naked body appreciatively. She pouted.

“My husband’s not coming home tonight; he’s still in Connecticut on business,” she promised him.

He leaned over to kiss her as he laced his shirt. With determination she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer, but he took a step back and reached for his waistcoat, which he had tossed over a chair in his haste to remove it earlier. Shrugging into it, he ran his thumb along her jawbone and lower lip. “Sorry.”

She watched silently as he pulled on his coat, tied his cravat, and reached for his belt before trying again. “If it’s Joseph you’re worried about, he hasn’t fought a duel in years!”

Logan laughed as he set the baldric around his waist, resting his hand on the hilt of his cutlass. “I thank you, my dear, for your concern regarding my well-being, though I’m fairly sure I could take care of myself should a conflict arise. Besides, everyone in the colonies is aware that your husband has turned a blind eye to your many…” he paused to grin down at her,  “indiscretions.”

“Then why won’t you stay?”

Logan’s smile disappeared. “I have business to take care of before I sail tomorrow.”

“But you just got in two days ago! Surely you can’t be leaving already?”

“I’m afraid so.” He picked his hat off the dresser and placed it on his head. “Goodnight, Alyssa.” Without another word he left, closing the bedroom door behind him.

He sighed. It was a shame that Alyssa was getting too attached. Her husband was often traveling, leaving her alone in a large, understaffed house. It was even rumored that when he was in town they slept in separate bedrooms. So it made sense that she was such a willing partner whenever Logan docked and came to call in the middle of the night. Still, it was his habit to remain emotionally detached from his companions, as he was in no way prepared to settle down. He made this clear at the start of every relationship. As a general rule he never spent the entire night with a woman, fearing it would foster attachment, and awkward mornings were to be avoided at all costs.

He walked down the hall, descended the staircase, and with a nod to the footman he would never see again, he walked out into the cold winter night. The light in Alyssa’s room shone through the large window, making visible her alluring silhouette pressed up against the glass. He avoided looking up as he hunched over and began the walk towards the inn near the harbor.

The promise of a warm fire and a clean bed hastened his steps, and within minutes he was shaking off the snow and ordering a drink. Mug in hand, he scanned the room until his eyes settled on the scarred face of a man sitting alone by the hearth.

“Evening Roderick,” he said cheerfully as he settled on the bench across from the sullen person, who pulled out a pocket watch and scowled.

“S’about bloody time you showed up,” he grunted. “Another ten minutes and I’d have left, and then where would you be?”

“You know I’d be lost without you mate, that’s why you put up with me. Out of the goodness of your heart. I do recommend, however, that you tone down that accent a bit. You know how these colonialists get whenever they hear an accent from the motherland. They think you’re trying to steal their ships or something,” he said with a smile as Roderick choked on his ale. “Now, what have you got for me?”

“It’s not fair,” his friend grumbled. “Here I am, running around in the cold trying to arrange everything, while you’re lying in the arms of some comely wench.” He glared at Logan. “You look like a right dandy, all dolled up like that.”

Logan glanced down at his floral waistcoat and red-heeled shoes. “Come on Roddy, it’s not that bad, and besides, it helps me blend in. Actually, you might think about getting yourself a new ensemble. Who knows? The ladies might fall at your feet.” Roderick struggled not to smile.

“So tell me, just how comely was she?”

Logan groaned as he finished the contents of his mug. “Incredibly so. Long blonde hair, large blue eyes, a soft body, and an absent husband.”

“Then why the frown? You did bed the chit, didn’t you?”

“Course I did,” Logan said with a disgruntled sigh. “It’s unfortunate, but tonight marks the end of our short affair.”

Roderick grinned knowingly, aware of the effect Logan had on the fairer sex. Women had a tendency to fall head over heels for the rake, despite his best efforts to remain unattached. True, he had little to do but walk into a room and they would swoon. Standing at six feet four inches he stuck out in a crowd, even if he wished to remain unnoticed. His body was well tanned and toned from a harsh life at sea, his broad shoulders and sinewy arms noticeable even when he was fully clothed. His shoulder length black hair was currently held back from his face by a strip of leather tied at the base of his neck, and his stormy grey eyes were the first to belie his emotions. When they narrowed and flashed with anger, it was in your best interests to calmly excuse yourself from his presence. Especially if you were the one who had sparked his fury.

“What did this one do to send you from her bed, propose marriage? Claim she was carrying your child?”

“Calmly told me that her husband had no desire to challenge me.” Roderick threw his head back and guffawed, an ugly sound that had half the patrons turning in their seats to stare at him.

“I’m assuming the lass doesn’t know about your current occupation?”

“None but a few are aware of that, my friend. And speaking of which, do you have the list with you or not? I’m sailing out in several hours and I need to get some rest, as charming as your company is.”

“Don’t flatter me boy, I’m too old for that,” he said as he presented Logan with a rolled length of parchment.

Logan unrolled it, quickly skimming the list of ships. “All of them?” he asked, raising his head and tucking the paper into his pocket.

“Aye. Think you can manage it?”

“Aye,” Logan echoed with a grin. Throwing down enough money to pay for his drink, he pushed back the bench and stood, heading towards the room he had rented for the night.

“Logan?” He turned on the stairs. “I’ve got another message for you.” One corner of Logan’s mouth rose in a crooked smile.

“The usual?”

“Aye. Give no quarter.”

The following morning Amber was roused from her slumber by her maid, Grace, who opened the curtains to reveal another sunny day. Amber blinked against the onslaught of light and groaned. She had been having a strange dream about fairies and princes, and now, as the harsh reality of her situation dawned on her, she longed to return to that magical world. If only finding a husband were as easy as sprinkling flower juice in his eyes and having him fall madly in love with her at first sight, she thought to herself as she slid out of bed. But for now she would have to go about it the old-fashioned way.

She dressed in a simple gown of pale yellow silk, adorned with small blue flowers. Grace attempted to pin her hair up, but Amber soon grew restless and shoved a lace cap on top of the unruly curls. Not caring that she didn’t look entirely presentable she sailed out of the room, leaving Grace staring at her back in disbelief.

Tying her lace apron about her waist, she ran down the stairs, colliding with the valet as she rounded the corner.

“Oof…sorry Maxwell.”

“That’s all right, Miss Townsend. How are you faring this morning?” he asked her, concern evident in his voice.

“As well as can be, considering the circumstances.” She glanced around her and lowered her voice. “Maxwell, I must ask a favor.”

He nodded. “Anything, Miss Townsend.”

“I need you to go to the harbor and inquire about a ship leaving for England, and, if possible, book me passage.” If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. And as if understanding her haste he gave her a nod and turned, stopping at the front door to ring for a coach.

Realizing that she could do nothing more until Maxwell returned, Amber decided to have something to eat. Coffee and scone in hand, she settled in the breakfast room with a book, but found her mind wandering. After reading the same line three times, she tossed the tome aside with a sigh and rang for a maid, voicing her wish to meet with Madam Lorelei.

“And tell her I will pay her to make room in her schedule for me today.” The maid scurried off to complete her task, leaving Amber alone again. She did not have long to wait before Maxwell returned.

“I’ve located two ships,” he told her, shaking the snow off of his coat. “One merchant vessel and the other a passenger ship. The merchant ship departs in four days, but the passenger ship does not leave for three weeks.”

Amber sighed. “I cannot wait that long.”

“I thought that might be the case, Miss. I’ve booked you safe passage on the merchant ship The Queen Charlotte. The Captain, despite his anxiety about having a woman aboard, has agreed to take you to England. I even persuaded him to allow you use of his quarters, so you should travel in relative comfort.”

“Thank you Maxwell, you’ve been a great help.”

“Miss Amber, I know it’s none of my business, but did something happen to inspire this urgent need to leave home? Did your mother say something to you before she passed away?”

She was hesitant about divulging her problems to a member of the staff, but Maxwell had been with her family since they moved to Boston, and had proved his loyalty time and time again. She trusted him implicitly, and before she knew it she was describing the contents of her father’s will.

“Ah, this explains the need to travel to Europe, but not the immediacy. Did the will say anything else?”

“It also maintains that until I am wed to this baron or duke, I cannot hold control over my family’s estates.”

Surprise registered on his face. “But I naturally assumed you would take over your mother’s role as head of the household.”

“So did I.”

“Well, then, who is in charge until you find a suitable husband? Surely not—”

She dropped her head. “Control is in the hands of my guardian, who, since my mother’s death, is Neil.”

“Oh lord, I was afraid you would say that. I must tell the maids to hide the silver. Has he done anything rash yet?”

“No, I don’t think he knew the details of my father’s will. How could he, when my mother hid it for all these years?”

A slow smile spread over his face. “Well, there really is no need for him to know yet, is there?”

His meaning dawning on her, she returned his smile. “You can be quite devious when you put your mind to it, Maxwell.”

“I picked up several tricks while watching you grow up. Now, I’m assuming you have a lot of packing to do?” She nodded. “I shall see that the trunks are brought up to your bedroom this afternoon. And if I’m not mistaken, that is Madam Lorelei’s carriage approaching.”

Sure enough, Amber heard the sound of horses pulling up to the front of the house. Maxwell reached out to her and touched her arm. “Miss Amber, your mother was a wonderful woman, and all of us are saddened by her sudden passing. We know how close you were. If there’s anything at all we can do to help ease your loss, I implore you to please let us know.”

Amber blinked back another set of tears and gave Maxwell a quick hug. Thanking him, she picked up her skirts and hurried into the parlor where she would greet her guest, attempting to fix her hair as she waited.

She was shoving the last curl under her cap when the door opened and the maid ushered the tall middle-aged woman into the room. Amber directed her towards the sofa and smiled.

“Madam Lorelei, I’m so glad you could meet with me today. I’m sure it must have been a hassle to rearrange all of your appointments, and for that I thank you.”

“By the tone of your lovely maid’s voice, I assumed this was an emergency?” She raised her perfectly arched eyebrows in question, as if demanding to know why she had been forced to alter her schedule.

“Yes, I’m afraid I’m in need of a new wardrobe. You see, my mother passed away yesterday morning, and I leave for England in four days, yet I have nothing suitable to wear,” Amber explained, hoping her voice contained enough pathos to elicit a response from Madam Lorelei. When she received none she tried a different tactic: “I knew you were the only person in all of Boston who was up to the challenge of creating a whole new wardrobe, fit for a London Season, in just four days. Nobody knows as much about European fashion as you do, and your skill is matched by no one.” Amber knew she was almost there because the older woman had lost her scowl, a small smile even playing at the corners of her lips. “And, as you can imagine, I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your trouble.”

At last the dressmaker smiled and waved her hand dismissively, displaying a gaudy collection of rings on her fingers. “Let’s not bore ourselves by discussing the financial matters. Instead,” she inched closer to Amber and pulled out a sketchbook, “tell me what sorts of events you will be attending. Balls? Operas? Garden parties?” She paused in her drawing to look up, and laughed when she saw Amber’s blank face. “Don’t worry, you’ll leave with a whole set of gowns for each occasion. Now, I’ve been wanting to use this emerald satin that I just got in, and I have enough of that cobalt silk…” she trailed off, her hand a blur as she sketched out several designs.

Madam Lorelei was in a good mood after determining Amber’s measurements, leaving with enough money to make five gowns and have plenty left over. She also carried out with her several older dresses with designs to alter them to better suit the more modern styles.

The day was far from over for Amber, however. After eating a small lunch she called for a carriage and headed into town, picking up silk stockings, petticoats, corsets, shifts, ribbons, shoes, and lace caps.

It was dusk when she finally returned home with all her packages. Famished, she ate supper alone in the dining room, and then retired to the library. The smell of leather comforted her as she walked alongside the shelves, running her fingertips over the spines of her favorite books: the ones her mother had read to her growing up, the ones she had read herself when she was older, and the ones she had read to her mother as she lay in bed dying.

Without looking, she pulled a book from the wall and headed over to the fire. Not even bothering to glance at the cover, she settled down and began reading. She was restless however. She had an odd sensation, as if something wasn’t right in the room. Slowly closing the book she got to her feet, looking around her for a possible explanation for her unease. And then she saw it.

The empty space on the mantle, where, just yesterday, the silver candelabra had stood.

Chapter Three

“Miss Townsend? We are approaching the docks.”

Amber hadn’t needed the announcement from the driver to alert her of their impending arrival. She had picked up the salty aroma of sea air several minutes ago and had been anxiously peering through the curtained windows since then, hoping to see signs of the ship that was to take her to England.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and the driver jumped down to open Amber’s door and help her out. Shielding her eyes against the sun, she strained to locate the Queen Charlotte.

“I think that’s it, right there,” the driver said, pointing a finger at a large vessel with three sets of wide, square sails. He began untying her trunks. “I believe they call it a squ—”

“A square-rigger,” she cut him off, in awe as she stared up at the tall ship.

“Yes, that’s right, but how on earth did you know that?” the driver, a lanky man who could barely be in his twenties, inquired. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is, ma’am.”

Amber smiled at him. “It’s quite all right. My mother kept a very impressive library,” she told him, watching with a laugh as he pulled the final trunk to the ground with a heavy grunt. “Some of which I couldn’t bear to leave at home.”

He wiped a hand across his brow and stared down at the trunk. “You mean to tell me you’ve got a bunch of books in there?”

“It’s a long journey, and I must have something to occupy my time, mustn’t I?”  He shook his head and began dragging the lightest of her three trunks down the pier, Amber hurrying at his heels. Though there was a constant, aching fear in her stomach, she momentarily forgot her troubles as anticipation overwhelmed her. All about her, men were running back and forth to the ship, loading it with supplies for the voyage. She watched as wooden crates packed with food, barrels filled with water and rum, even goats and chickens were hauled up and over the edge of the impressive ship. Gulls circled in the air above them, waiting for a crate to drop or be left behind.

Standing on the gangway directing everything was the captain. A stout man in his early forties with cropped brown hair and a scruffy beard, he had a loud voice that carried over the docks. Hearing their approach he looked up, surprise registering on his face as he saw Amber. He regained his composure and smiled, taking her offered hand and kissing it. “This must be the beautiful Miss Townsend.”

“Please, call me Amber.”

“Amber, then. Well, the crew and I are all thrilled that you will be joining us on our journey. I am Captain Henry Watson, at your service.”

“Watch out!” She jumped to the side as two burly men carried her second trunk past them and onto the ship, the poor driver lugging the third one behind him. Breathless, he reached them, letting it fall heavily.

“Is there anything else you need, Miss Townsend?” he asked her, panting between words and inching backwards towards freedom.

“No, that will be all, thank you. I’m sure the Captain can carry my last trunk for me,” she said, turning towards him.

He cleared his throat. “But of course I can, Miss Town…Amber. If you would like to go ahead of me, I think we’ll be ready to set sail within the hour.” With a slight curtsy she turned and headed up the gangplank, aware that his eyes were following her.

“How are you faring, Captain Watson?” she asked as she glanced over her shoulder. He tried to smile at her, but his teeth were clenched and the result was a half grimace, half grin that made Amber snicker behind her hand.

“Light as a feather!” he wheezed, reaching the top of the ramp. He struggled to rest it squarely on the deck, a process that had him on his knees and leaning over, balancing the trunk with his other hand. He pulled himself to his feet and wiped his hands on his breeches. “If I may say, those must be some heavy dresses, Miss Townsend.”

“Those aren’t dresses, Captain. Those are my books.”

He looked down at the trunk he had just wrestled to the ground, then back at her. “Books?”

“Yes, books. You know, Shakespeare, Plato, Homer, Aristotle? You can read, can’t you Captain?”

“Of course I can, but—” he stopped as he noticed her teasing smile. “I think you are going to be a much needed breath of fresh air aboard this ship, Miss Townsend. How about I show you to your quarters?”

She agreed, and he began looking around for a new victim to carry the trunks.

All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she spun around. A tall, skinny man with stringy brown hair stood with his legs planted and his arms crossed on his chest, glaring at her. His eyes were so dark they almost looked black, and they bore into hers with surprising animosity. She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder, comforted only slightly as she realized it was just the Captain. He followed her gaze.

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed my first mate, Lyle. His personality leaves something to be desired, but the men work harder under him than any other officer I’ve ever seen.” Amber didn’t doubt it, wincing as the Captain called out to the hostile looking man. “Lyle, don’t just stand there gaping. Either come say hello to Miss Townsend or make yourself useful.”

Lyle blinked, as though taken off guard by the command, then pushed a strand of hair from his eyes and smiled, a cruel leer that made Amber want to bathe herself thoroughly, as if cleaning her skin would rid the feeling of being watched by such a malicious man. Instead, she repressed a shudder as he walked away and allowed the Captain to take her arm and lead her towards the stern of the ship. He stopped and opened a hatch on the floor, then turned and descended the narrow stairs. Amber climbed down after him, ignoring the hand that he offered, and looked around.

“To your left is the doorway that leads to the orlop, which is where the men sleep and eat. If you go down a second flight you’ll find yourself in the hold, where we store everything.”

“Where will you be sleeping?”

“I will be sleeping in Lyle’s quarters for this voyage. Can’t say he’s too happy to be displaced, either. But here is where you will be staying,” he said, reaching past her to open a door. “This is my cabin, and I, uh, hope you find it comfortable. I know it’s not much,” he added, watching her face as she surveyed the small room, empty except for a small wooden bed, attached to the wall in one corner and single dresser. “But it’s cozy, and should provide you with some privacy. I’ve moved most of my things out, so that you may have room to spread out, if you so wish.” As if on cue, four of his men bustled past them and deposited her trunks on the floor with a loud thud, making Amber wince.

She nodded to them as they left, noticing that none of them would meet her eyes. She turned to the Captain. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Absolutely not, my dear,” he said with unease. “It’s just that some of the crew are a bit superstitious. You see, it’s considered bad luck to have a woman on a ship.”

Amber laughed. “Well, please assure your men that they won’t even know I’m here. I have my books, and I hardly need someone to entertain me, so I think it’s safe to say I will keep out of your men’s way.”

He scratched his chin and gave her a smile. “I think you will be just fine. But if anyone bothers you, you just let me know and I will address the matter personally.”

“Thank you, Captain, though I’m positive there won’t be any problems.”

“I’m certain you’re right. We should be ready to set sail within forty minutes, would you like me to send someone down to get you?”

“I can find my way, but thank you.” He nodded at her and left, closing the door behind him. Amber listened to his footsteps ascending the stairs, and then pulled her lightest trunk over to the high windows.

Picking up her skirts she stepped onto it, standing on the balls of her feet to see the bustle of activity on the dock. There she stayed for a long time, until a rugged sailor, perched on rickety scaffolding, dropped down to wash the windows. With a shriek she stepped back and almost fell, regaining her balance just in time. The sailor looked just as surprised. With flushed cheeks he cleaned the glass with record speed, and then was gone.

Amber decided to take a look around outside, and after rummaging in a trunk for a straw hat and a shawl, she opened the door and climbed the steps, emerging on a busy deck.

Hearing her approach, the Captain turned in her direction. “Ah, just in time, Miss Towns—Amber. Did you get settled in?”

Amber glanced at the sailor who had seen her through the window, who now blushed furiously and looked away. “Yes, thank you. Are we departing soon?”

“Aye, right now. If you will just excuse me…” With a nod, he moved away from her and shouted to his men to raise anchor and set sail. Careful not to get in anyone’s way, she strolled towards the railing to watch the harbor slip away into the distance, taking with it the life she had grown accustomed to and bringing her closer to a new one.

Soon, the flurry of activity quieted down, as the men settled into their appointed tasks. Most of them ignored her as they climbed up and down the rigging or scrubbed the decks, and she did her part to ignore them too.

It wasn’t hard, considering the circumstances. At long last she was back on a ship, plowing through the blue waters of the Atlantic, the salty spray cool on her face, the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the hull soothing her stressed body. She untied the ribbon around her throat and pulled the hat from her head, then yanked the pins from her hair one by one until it fell about her shoulders and curled around her neck, whipping about in the wind. For the first time since her mother’s death she felt at ease.

She had no desire to go back inside; instead she retrieved a book from her cabin and settled on the main deck to read, leaning against a pile of rope with her skirts spread around her. The shoreline had long disappeared from sight when a loud cough caused her to look up, shielding her eyes. Standing above her was a tall, burly seaman, obviously uncomfortable.

“I’ma be needing that rope there, missus,” he told her, careful not to look her in the eye as he spoke. With an apology she leapt to her feet, surrendering her backrest. The sun was well overhead by now, and she leaned over the railing with her arms crossed, clutching her book against her chest. She took a deep breath, letting the salty air wash over her, when she felt again as if she were being watched.

She dropped her book, and as she bent down to pick it up she covertly looked around. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lyle, the wind flapping at his greasy hair as he scowled at her. She turned back to the ocean and ignored him, hoping he would go away. The minutes dragged on before she felt him turn his attention to something else.

“Matthew you incompetent fool! Can’t you do anything right?” She winced. Lyle’s voice was oily and cruel, and she wrapped her shawl more tightly about herself to ward off the sudden chill. She felt bad for Matthew, whoever he was. She was debating going inside to escape the discomfort she felt around the first mate when she noticed something floating in the water.

At first she thought it was just a piece of driftwood bobbing on the waves, but as it drew closer she realized it was a few planks of wood, probably from the side of a ship, crudely fastened together. And sprawled on top of it was the unmoving body of a boy.

“Captain, come quickly!” she cried, straining to see if the person was alive.

“Miss Amber? What seems to be the—” She cut him off by pointing to the raft. “Good Lord, man overboard! Quickly men, haul him up!”

The sailors jumped to obey and in minutes had the small boy on the deck, sputtering and coughing water as they pushed on his stomach. Captain Watson took the wool blanket a sailor offered him and dropped it about the boy’s shoulders as he struggled to sit up.

“Can you tell me your name, lad?”

“Johnny, sir,” he replied, looking about him. His eyes lit upon Amber and widened, his jaw dropping in surprise. “S’cuse me, Cap’n, but don’t you know its awful bad luck to have a woman on board a ship?”

He ignored the comment. “Johnny, is it? Can you tell me how you got to be floating on a raft in the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Well sir, I was serving as the cabin boy on the merchant ship Seabreeze, when we was attacked by pirates!” This brought a gasp from the crew. The boy continued, encouraged by their responses. “Aye, pirates. They took my Cap’n aside and demanded to know where he had stored all the goods, and when he refused to tell them, they split him open, spilling his guts all over the deck!” He waved his hands about, excited to have captured the attention of such a large audience. “Then they slaughtered the crew, took everything of value, and burned the ship. I escaped only because they didn’t notice me, and managed to stay afloat on a piece of the wreckage.”

Captain Watson shuddered, but Amber remained nonplussed. “I’ve not heard many stories of pirates this far north. Do you know the name of the pirate Captain, or his ship?”

The boy nodded quickly. “Aye, I’ll not be forgetting that ship. A giant frigate, she was, three giant masts, with huge square sails. I counted at least forty guns, and that was only on the port side. It was crewed by over sixty bloodthirsty pirates, armed to the teeth with cutlass and pistol, aching to get their filthy hands on our cargo. The name, I recall, was the Imperial Shadow, the Captain being called el Tigre.”

The crew had gone deathly still, color draining from their faces. One sailor crossed himself.

“I assume you’ve heard of this el Tigre, Captain Watson?” Amber asked.

“Aye,” he spat, “el Tigre is a ruthless killer, the scourge of the seas. He’ll take down any ship, paying no heed or mercy to the men on board. You best be hopin’ we don’t come across him; I hate to think about what he’d do to a pretty young lass like yourself.”

Johnny decided to offer his opinion on the matter. “I know what he’d do. First he’d rip off her clothes, and then he’d—”

“That’s enough, Johnny,” the Captain cut him off. “Now, you must be chilled to the bone. How long were you floating out there?”

“I can’t say for sure, I wasn’t awake for the most of it. But I reckon it was at least two days, maybe three.”

“Three days? Well, you’re lucky to have found us, lucky indeed. Come, we’ll get you below deck and find you warm clothes, then fill your belly.” He looked to Amber as he placed a hand on the boy’s back, leading him to the stairs. “Is it all right if young Johnny joins us for lunch? Cameron was going to serve us on the forecastle, seeing as how it looks to be a mild afternoon.”

“I have no objections,” she assured him. With a spring in her step she strolled over to the railing, where her book lay on the deck. She scooped it up, careful to mark her page, then went downstairs to her cabin, shut the door and opened a trunk. She had a sudden urge to change into her blue satin gown, because it better seemed to fit her adventurous mood, and would be warmer than her plain cotton dress.

She cursed under her breath as she struggled to lace the back of her gown by herself, wishing she had brought along a maid. She had her arms crossed, pulling on the laces and wondering how she was going to tie it, when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she instructed, and Captain Watson entered, turning back towards the door when he saw her.

“I’m sorry, I can return later.”

“Captain, you’re just the man I was hoping to see!  If you would just tie this for me,” she presented her back to him. Making sure the door was closed, he approached her and tightened the laces, then made a bow.

“You’re getting awfully dressed up for a simple lunch with the crew, Miss Amber.”

She turned to him with a smile. “I was feeling impulsive, and besides, this seemed like the perfect dress in which to meet pirates.” She twirled her skirts theatrically.

His face darkened. “’Tis not a laughing matter, that el Tigre. I shudder just thinking about him.” Amber sobered. Though she found the situation exciting, she supposed that a hardened sailor was probably more wary of pirates then a girl whose only experience with them was through books.

“Are we ready?” she asked him, changing the subject and holding out her arm.

He took it with a smile, and led her above deck.

Later that night, a ship sat far off in the distance, cloaked in darkness. A figure, inconspicuously dressed in black, stood on the sterncastle deck watching the Queen Charlotte through a brass telescope. The moon provided sufficient light to see the merchant vessel, and he could feel the familiar excitement rising in his gut as he thought about the following day.

He called his quartermaster over and asked for a report.

“Well, Captain, most of the men are already asleep, minus of course the ones who have night duty, and everyone is chomping at the bit for some action. We’ve already tied half her sails up, but the wind is in our favor and we’ve set a straight course towards the other ship. They should be spotting us any minute now, if they haven’t already.”

The tall Captain smiled, a row of white teeth visible in the darkness. “Perfect. And the flag?”

“To anyone else we are just a large, merchant vessel, sailing under the great country of England,” he said, looking up at the Union Jack, flapping in the breeze.

“A very large, mean-looking trade ship, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Except for the guns.”

The Captain shrugged, his smile widening. “By the time they are close enough to see the gun ports, it will already be too late.”

The quartermaster laughed and slapped him on the back. “Aye, Captain. Or should I say: el Tigre.”  This caused both men to laugh heartily, as the Imperial Shadow bobbed in the surf.

Amber awoke at first light, a ray of which entered though the cabin windows, landing directly upon her face. She groaned and thought to turn over, then decided she might as well get up. With a yawn she swung her feet over the side of the bed and reached for the blue dress she had worn the night before, deciding against wrinkling another so soon. Besides, many of her other gowns would be even more difficult to lace or button by herself, and she dare not ask Captain Watson for more help in that matter.

Indeed, the previous evening he avoided looking at her for too long, though many sailors had shamelessly regarded her low cut dress with much admiration. The meal itself had been uneventful, disappointing both Amber and the young boy.

Several times Johnny attempted in vain to bring up topics of conversation not suited for the dinner table, especially one that included the company of a lady, though Amber seemed to be the most willing to listen. The third time he mentioned pirates however, the Captain went very red in the face as he clutched his fork in anger, his knuckles turning white. Amber, wishing to avoid arousing his temper any further, decided to ask the boy questions about himself.

He had answered them all obediently, though many of his responses caused Amber to question his truthfulness. She did not believe for one second that he was only eleven years old, for he was almost as tall as she was and she could make out the light markings of facial hair on his chin and cheeks. His voice, too, was much too deep for a boy of eleven, though she believed he tried to mask it by speaking higher, even cracking it convincingly. He also seemed to hesitate before answering questions about his past, as if he were thinking hard about his response.

In fact, the only thing that he seemed to speak freely about was the pirate attack, a subject that was not far from the minds of anyone present. Amber had thought about it a great deal herself as she settled into her cabin for the night, reading by candlelight until she was tired enough to sleep.

The subject came to mind again as she struggled into her dress, but was forgotten as she worked out a way to lace it herself. Bending her arms behind her she was able to tighten the ribbons almost all the way to the top, and then by pulling her shoulder blades back and sticking out her chest she succeeded in tying a knot, crooked as it may have been. It was also a bit too snug, she realized as she stood straight up and attempted to take a deep breath, but rather than wrestle with it any more she decided to leave it.

She stopped in the galley to grab an apple before emerging on deck. Despite the early hour, men were already going about their duties, and Amber was looking for a quiet place to sit when she noticed a ship off the starboard side.

She followed it with her eye as she located the Captain, who stood with his spyglass extended in the direction of the ship. He glanced at Amber as she came next to him, and then returned to his telescope.

“We spotted her a little before midnight,” he told her solemnly.

“Is she anything to worry about?”

“I don’t think so. She’s flying British colors, and is sailing at half speed,” he said, indicating that only half of the sails were unfurled. “Likelihood is she’s just a merchant ship, same as us. Still, we’re going to keep an eye on her.”

Amber bit into her apple and squinted at the other ship. “Looks like she’s heading straight towards us,” she noted, swallowing and taking another bite.

“Aye, ‘tis a bit odd, but nothing to be alarmed about, I’m sure.”

Amber finished her apple and threw the core into the surf. Then she settled on a barrel to read, though she kept peering over the edge of her book to mark the location of the mysterious ship, which continued to draw closer. It was only a mile away when a shot rang out.

Amber jumped to her feet and ran to the side of the boat where the Captain stood, his face suddenly distraught. “Are they firing at us?”

“That was a warning shot.” His voice was grave as he watched with concern.

“But why would they…” she trailed off as the other ship seemed to burst into action. Simultaneously, all sails dropped and filled with wind, at the same time as the Union Jack was lowered and replaced with the ominous black Jolly Roger. “Pirates!” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise. “Can we outrun them?”

But the Captain was already shouting orders to his men to let down the topsails on the mizzen and main and to throw anything over that could be spared. He was rushing to help the crew when he stopped and spun on his heel. “Miss Townsend, I’m sorry, but your trunk filled with books—”

He was cut off mid-sentence as Lyle burst from the hatch, dragging the young boy by his hair. “I found him below, disabling the tiller. The rudder is useless now.” He shoved Johnny to the deck, but he quickly bounded to his feet again with a leer.

“It’s too late, anyhow,” he told them with a shrug “You can’t outrun the Imperial Shadow, even if you had a working rudder and a two day head start. Look!” Sure enough, the pirate ship was almost upon them.

The Captain was shaking with fury. “Throw him in the brig, and make sure to lock it, then bring out the coffer of pistols.” Lyle was happy to dole out the punishment, and to the rest of the crew the Captain barked, “Men, prepare to fight.”

“Captain, shouldn’t we surrender? Surely we cannot hold them off,” Amber shouted, trying to be heard above the cries of the crew.

“Miss Townsend, get below deck, now! Lock yourself in my cabin, and don’t leave until I tell you it’s safe.” She tried to protest but he shoved her in the direction of the stairs and went back to shouting commands to his men. Amber did as she was told with reluctance, and locked the door behind her as she entered the cabin and began pacing, anxiously listening for anything that might tell her what was happening on deck. She heard nothing but the activity of the crew preparing for the attack, and then a large bang, followed by a sickening cracking sound, which she could only assume was the mast toppling over.

She could scarcely catch her breath, mostly due to nervousness, but in part because her bodice was so constricting. She would have to find a knife to cut herself from her dress. Hastily pulling open the top dresser drawer she tried her best to block out the sounds of gunshots, and metal striking metal as the pirates boarded the ship and began fighting the crew. The top drawer contained nothing but a compass and a pair of breeches. She slammed it shut and opened the second.

The noise was getting louder as she rummaged through that drawer, still finding nothing. Panicked now, she threw open the third, where, underneath a folded shirt, she found a pistol. She was pulling it out when she heard two men descending the stairs, and she could tell by their voices that neither of them were members of the Queen Charlotte’s crew.

“Ah, this must be the Cap’n’s quarters, not that he’ll be needing them anymore,” said one of the men, eliciting a laugh from the other.

“I say we have a look around, see what he’s hiding’ in there.”

Amber held her breath as the door jiggled.

“Locked?” this came from the first pirate, with an eager chuckle. “Must mean he’s got somethin’ of value in there!”

“Stand aside, Buck,” the second commanded.

With shaking hands, Amber cocked the pistol and pointed it toward the door, just as it splintered open.

Chapter Four

From his stance on the quarterdeck of the Imperial Shadow, the tall pirate Captain surveyed the scene. The sound of striking steel rang clear on the deck of the Queen Charlotte as the battle wore on. Sailors and pirates alike lay bleeding, though the number of pirates injured was far less. Though the fighting continued, the Captain could tell that the sailors were growing weary, and he knew that the struggle was drawing to a close.

Checking to ensure that his hat was in place, he straightened his black coat and strode to the side of the ship. He felt a familiar rush of adrenaline, and his hand automatically moved to the leather baldric around his waist, his fingers resting on his pistol. As he quelled his boyish excitement, he climbed to the railing and jumped down onto the smaller boat, which lay flush against the warship’s side, pulled tight and secured with grappling lines.

He glanced around him and with a curse noticed the body of Daniel, the ship’s carpenter, lying face down in a puddle of blood. He was bending over to turn the body when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

With lightning reflexes he pulled out his cutlass and spun around, burying it to the hilt in his attacker’s abdomen. Surprise registered on the man’s dark face as he glanced down at the blood pouring out of the fatal wound in his stomach, his sword slipping from his hands and landing on the deck with a clang. With a gurgle he fell to his knees, swayed, then collapsed at the Captain’s feet.

Looking up, the Captain saw he had gained the attention of everyone on board. “Tie them up,” he instructed with a nod at his men as he retrieved his cutlass and proceeded to clean it on the breeches of the dead sailor. He stood and replaced it at his belt, then glanced around at the pale faces staring at him in fear. “Unless anyone else would like to take their chances with me?” The remaining sailors were quickly gathered and bound, their hands tied in front of them.

The Captain began pacing before his prisoners. “As I’m sure you know by now, I am Captain Logan Jeffries, also known as el Tigre.” He smiled. “I’m sure my reputation precedes me. Despite what you may have heard, however, I can be a merciful man. Had you surrendered when I fired the warning shot, the lives of many of your crewmates, and unfortunately some of my own, could have been spared. And yet, I am willing to overlook this and offer you a choice: you may join my crew or you may remain on your ship, knowing that after we take what we desire it will be burned. The longboat I will leave, assuming you can get it in the water before the ship goes up. We may be close enough to the mainland yet, but are you willing to risk it? The choice is yours, gentlemen.”

One man leapt to his feet. “I am with you, Captain!” he shouted, bringing his bound hands to his forehead in a kind of salute. Logan nodded and the man’s bonds were cut, allowing him to go stand by the other pirates.

Of the twenty-five remaining sailors, seventeen opted to join his crew. The others decided they would rather take their chances with the longboat then serve under a pirate.

The last willing sailor’s hands were being freed when two pirates burst forth from the hatch, a very surprising prisoner in tow. The men on deck were stunned into silence, while Logan himself reeled back at the sight of the beautiful redhead.

“We found her in their Cap’n’s quarters!” announced Buck with a triumphant grin.

“Oy, she’s a feisty chit, to be sure! Tried to shoot us, she did. Too bad for her the pistol had no bullets left!” Jean leered at the girl, tightening his hold on her wrist.

Amber responded by stomping down on her captor’s foot as hard as she could. With a yelp he released his hold on her and she started running.

To her dismay she did not get very far. During her quick attempt at escape Logan had crossed the deck in a few strides, and now she found herself faced with a hard wall of chest and broad shoulders. Her gaze traveled upwards and found the man to be pleasantly attractive, despite the fact that he was a pirate and blocking her only chance at freedom.

“Who the hell are you and what in the name of heaven are you doing on this ship?” Logan found himself asking, still recovering from the shock of seeing a well-dressed woman.

“My business is none of your concern, el Tigre,” she spit back. If looks could kill, Logan was certain he would have dropped dead right where he was standing, so poisonous was her scowl. Intrigued, Logan flashed her a smile.

The friendly gesture temporarily disarmed Amber, and she faltered. Logan used this to his advantage and closed the gap between them, then lifted a hand to her hair, still smiling. “Are you going to tell me your name?” he asked as he twirled a lock around his finger.

She didn’t answer, but raised her hand quickly to slap him. Just as quickly however, he reached out and captured her wrist, before her palm could connect with his cheek. Logan cocked an eyebrow at her boldness.

“I think I understand now,” he chided her. “Who else, besides a common wench, would travel on a ship full of sailors and have the audacity to strike a pirate?  Or, perhaps you were the Captain’s mistress,” he added as his gaze raked her body, pausing at the site where her creamy skin all but spilled out of her bodice. Her face reddened, and she struggled to pull her arm free. He tightened his grip. “Answer my question, lass.”

“Lady Amber Townsend, my Captain.”

“Lady? I recognize a Boston accent when I hear one, Miss Townsend.”

She lifted her chin in defiance. “I owe you no explanation.”

“Makes no difference to me. I’ll find out sooner or later anyway.” He motioned for Buck to step forward and then loosened his fingers from around her wrist. “Take her to my cabin.”

For the second time, Amber hesitated. “Your cabin?”

“Aye,” Logan told her with a smirk, “you didn’t think we’d let you burn with the ship, did you?” The tall pirate named Buck approached her and reached for her arm, but she planted her feet and looked Logan squarely in the eye.

“I’m not going anywhere without my things.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to argue with me,” Logan informed her.

She shook her head, sending red curls bouncing. “I don’t care. I refuse to take one more step until you promise me that you will retrieve my trunks from the cabin downstairs.”

Anger flashed in Logan’s grey eyes. “Are you trying to tell me that you will fight off every single one of my men and go down with this ship, all because I won’t let you take your dresses? I think perhaps you are forgetting that you’re my prisoner now.”

Amber glared at him and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not moving.”

One pirate strode over to her with a snarl and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her so that she was forced to look at him. “Listen here lass, don’t be sassing the Cap’n. If I were you I’d be plumb happy to be alive right now! I wouldn’t be trying his patience.”

“That’s enough, Jackson,” Logan told him coolly. “Let her go.”  He took off his hat, ran a hand through his hair and stared at her. Then he sighed. “Pax, Deacon, please see to it that Miss Amber-sorry, Lady Amber’s things are brought to my cabin.” He turned to her with a hint of a smile. “Happy?”

She scoffed. “Hardly.”

With a nod from Logan, Buck led the young woman towards the side of the ship, where she climbed onto the railing and scrambled up the rope ladder. Buck watched her ascent with puzzlement, dismissing his plan to call out to someone on deck to lower the chair to raise her the six feet that the Imperial Shadow stood above the Queen Charlotte. He scratched his dark beard and waited till he saw the skirt of her dress disappear over the side of the ship, then shrugged and climbed up after her.

Logan had also watched the young woman climb. She was unlike any other woman he had ever met, and he was intrigued. Who was to say whether her story was true? Her dress seemed to be of fine material, and the pearls in her ears looked authentic. Then again, what purpose could she possibly have on a merchant ship?

Shaking his head he turned and began issuing orders. Jackson was to board the Imperial Shadow and lower the plank so the pirates would have an easier time relocating the goods onto their own ship, and he sent a handful of men to search the hold. The sailors who had joined the crew jumped at the opportunity to help, eagerly showing the pirates where things were located about the vessel.

Logan was pleased to learn that one of the sailors, a tall, good-natured man they called Noah, was a carpenter. After pulling him aside and talking to him for a few minutes, he was confident that he would be a good enough replacement for Daniel. He sent Noah to help load the ship then called the ship’s doctor, Piers, to tend to the wounded men on both sides.

Hearing a grunt, Logan turned towards the quarterdeck, where two pirates struggled to push a large black trunk through the hatch. Finally it landed on the deck, both men heaving.

“What’s wrong, boys? Don’t tell me two strapping young lads such as yourselves need help carrying a bunch of petticoats and bloomers?”

“These ain’t no petticoats, Captain,” Pax informed him, his face red and splotchy, his voice edged with anger.

“Nonsense. What else would a woman carry with her?”

“Come over here and have a look-see,” Deacon advised him.

“Ah, I see you wasted no time in breaking the lock, gentlemen. This ought to make a great impression on the lady.” The pirates had the decency to blush.

“Well, you see, we kind of busted it trying to shove it through the door,” Deacon said.

“And we thought we had a right to know what we was carrying, was all,” Pax added. “And look!”  With dramatic flourish, he threw open the lid and revealed the contents of the trunk. Logan began laughing.

“Well, somehow I’m not surprised. Makes sense that the stubborn girl would be educated,” he said, bending down to sift through the books. “Though I still don’t understand what she was doing sailing on a merchant vessel.”

“Beats me, but I don’t think we should be takin’ the lady with us. It’s awful bad luck to have a woman on a ship, you know.”

Logan stood and shut the trunk. “I don’t believe for one minute that you would leave the girl to burn with the ship, Pax. You of all people couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see a beautiful woman every day.”

The skinny, freckled boy of nineteen laughed. “You know my weakness, Captain.”

“Everyone knows your weakness, you damn fool,” Deacon told him with a grin. “You make a habit of running at the mouth to everyone who will listen about the chits you bed every time we dock, though we all know you’re lying and ain’t never seen the inside of a woman’s skirt.”

Logan stopped the young boy from making a rude comment to the taller, stronger Irishman, and waved them on. Still arguing, they picked up the heavy trunk and began shuffling up the plank. Logan turned again to the doctor, who was busy preparing his tools to amputate Abraham’s leg just below the knee, where a ball from a pistol had shattered the bone. Unable to retrieve the bullet and afraid the wound might become infected, Piers had decided the best course of action would be to remove the leg. Logan called one of the eager sailors over and instructed him to bring him a bottle of the strongest alcohol he could find, then went to sit by Abraham, who was sweating and shaking. The sailor returned with two pints of whisky, one of which Logan opened and handed to Abe.

“Cheers,” the man said with a hint of a smile as he raised the bottle to his lips. When he lowered it again, it was empty. Logan took the bottle and turned to the young sailor, who had noticed the doctor’s saw and had gone quite pale.

“What’s your name, lad?”

“Henry, Captain.”

“Well, Henry, have you ever seen something like this?”

“No sir, this is my first voyage.”  He glanced nervously at the doctor, and back at Abraham, who was beginning to feel the effects of the whisky and was calling out to get it over with.

Logan nodded. “Give me your knife, Henry.”  He did, and Logan offered it to Abraham, who took the wooden hilt between his teeth. “I’m going to need you to come around here, to the other side of Abe, and hold him down. Can you do that?”  Henry nodded, and as they restrained the man, the doctor began sawing through his leg. Abraham bit down on the knife in his mouth to keep from screaming and did his best not to struggle, though sweat poured down his face, contorted in agony. Henry looked like he was about to be sick, but met Logan’s eyes and the encouraging smile he received gave him the strength to stay put. Finally, Piers was done and he sealed the wound with a hot poker to stop the blood. Abraham passed out from the pain and the doctor wiped the saw on his apron and moved on to the next wounded man, who luckily only needed a bandage.

Logan clapped Henry on the shoulder. “You just did a fine thing there, Henry. That was very brave of you.”  The boy beamed as color slowly returned to his face. “How old are you?”

“I am but four and ten, Captain.”

“Fourteen, eh?” With a smile he led the boy to the side of the ship. “I want you to go find Johnny. He’s a year older than you, but he should help you settle right in. Tell him that I sent you, and that he has orders to show you around.” Henry smiled and saluted, a sweet but unnecessary gesture, then shimmied up the rope ladder and onto the pirate ship.

“Well Cap’n, this here’s the last of the lady’s things.” Logan turned to see Pax and Deacon effortlessly lifting a trunk between them.

“I take it this one is easier to carry?”

“Aye,” Pax said with a mischievous grin. “We took the liberty of lookin’ inside this one too, just to make sure it wasn’t books.”

“And?”

“Petticoats,” Pax told him, his grin widening. “And all sorts of pretty lacy things.”

“Why don’t you tell the Cap’n about the stockings you swiped, you stupid boy,” offered Deacon. Logan eyed Pax questioningly. The young pirate sighed and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a pair of white silk stockings.

“I didn’t mean no harm by it, I swear. I was going to give ‘em back.”

“You’ll put them back now, where you found them, and perhaps I won’t mention this conversation to Miss Amber. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation with her before she even knows your name?” Pax bobbed his head in agreement and threw open the lid of the trunk, shoving the stockings into a back corner.

The contents of the trunk caught Logan’s eye. Pax wasn’t lying when he said it was full of lacy things. His gaze wandered over the corsets, petticoats, garters, stockings, silk shifts…

The lid slammed shut, breaking his concentration. He cleared his throat and gestured for the two men to continue, then ran a hand through his hair again and shoved his hat back onto his head. It was going to be harder than he thought, having a woman on his ship.

Chapter Five

Amber was immediately struck by the size of the Imperial Shadow. After climbing the rope ladder and jumping down to the main deck, she swallowed the lump in her throat and looked around. Like the Queen Charlotte it had three tall masts with square sails, but the pirate ship was much longer, the rigging intensely more complex. She watched men scurry up and down the masts and ropes like squirrels in the forest, and observed as the black Jolly Roger came down and was replaced with British colors again. Before she could look at anything else, however, Buck laid a hand on her elbow and steered her towards the stern of the ship and up to the quarterdeck. Raised in front of her was the sterncastle deck, with the steering column and two staircases leading up to it, and above that was yet another deck.

Amber was too busy trying to remember the names of the different levels of the ship that she hadn’t noticed Buck opening a door between the staircases until he gestured for her to enter.

She did and turned, only to find that he had already shut the door in her face. The distinct sound of a key turning in the lock only intensified the anger that racked her body. She was a prisoner.

Silently reprimanding herself to contain the tears of frustration that threatened to pour from her eyes, she smoothed down her skirts and glanced around at the room. Sunlight poured in from the large windows along the wall, illuminating the cabin and making it glow. A large bed was pushed against the opposite wall, plush with blankets and pillows. In the center of the room there was a long wooden table covered with maps and charts, a half empty bottle of rum sitting next to an open compass and a thick, leather-bound book. She was about to pick up the book when she heard the lock click and two men entered the room, carrying the first of her trunks between them.

Catching her by surprise, one of them swept off his hat and gave her a small bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Paxton Grant, though my friends call me Pax. And I hope we can become friends, Lady Townsend,” he told her with a roguish wink.

The other man rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Don’t be paying him the least bit of attention, Miss. He flirts with all the pretty ladies.”

Amber decided that any ally would be helpful, and put on her sweetest smile. “Nonsense, how could I possibly ignore such a charming man?” she said, realizing that Pax must be at least two years younger than she was. “Besides, I’m sure we will become close friends. And please, call me Amber.”

Pax grinned flirtatiously at her. The other man had to grab his arm and pull him out the door. In minutes they had carried the next trunk in, then left and brought in the third.

Pax winked at her again as he left, but the door was shut and locked much as it had been before, destroying any hope that he might take pity on her. With a sigh Amber turned around and noticed the broken locks on all three of her trunks.

She ran across the room and threw open the one closest to her. In it lay an exquisite ivory gown, carefully folded, exactly how she had left it. She burrowed under it to make sure all of her other dresses were there; they were.

Slamming that one shut, she opened the black one containing her books. What had once contained organized stacks was now in disarray. A bit of rummaging and counting confirmed, however, that all her books were there.

A foray through the third, now messy, trunk verified her belief that someone, probably Pax and that other man, had riffled through her things.

“I assure you, nothing is missing.” Amber spun around to see the Captain leaning against the doorframe, casually watching her. She hadn’t even heard him come in.

Getting to her feet, she brushed off her dress. “Then explain to me the broken locks, and the disorder.” He shrugged and gave her a wry smile, one that caused her to inexplicably feel the slightest bit weak in the knees.

“I believe Pax and Deacon felt they had a right to know what they were carrying, and I can’t say I blame them. You were so adamant about having your things, they wondered what was so special about them.” He pulled himself upright and entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “But I can promise you that neither of them took anything. They were merely satisfying a curiosity, and surely you cannot begrudge them that right.”

Amber stared at him in shock. “You speak awfully well for…for a…”

“For a what, Lady Amber, a pirate?” He pulled off his hat and threw it onto the table. “A rogue? A scoundrel?”

She nodded and hoped her blush wasn’t too noticeable. He opened his mouth to continue, but stopped when a huge explosion outside made Amber jump.

“What in God’s name was that?” she exclaimed as she ran over to the windows, which, unlike on the other ship, covered the entire wall and allowed her to easily see from them.

“I’m assuming that was the fire reaching the stores of gunpowder on the Queen Charlotte” he told her, studying her with amusement. “Would you like to go outside and watch?”

“May I?” she asked him, momentarily forgetting that she was supposed to hate him.

Logan opened the door and stepped aside as she ran out onto the deck, then followed her. He led her up the stairs onto the forecastle deck where she scampered over to the railing to better see the burning ship. All around her pirates cheered, watching as the sails caught on fire, the foremast cracking under the pressure and falling to the deck with a loud crash. Alongside the ship floated the small longboat, packed with unhappy sailors shouting and rowing away from the burning wreckage.

Logan stood back and observed Amber. Her face was lit up with what he could only describe as childlike amusement, her hair glowing as it reflected the flames, a wide smile on her face as she leaned over the railing. He was bewildered.

Shaking his head, he ordered his men to haul anchor. He manned the helm himself to keep his eye on his peculiar passenger. While the other pirates grew bored and wandered off, Amber remained on deck and watched the burning ship slip farther and farther away into the distance.

When the Queen Charlotte was barely a speck on the horizon she looked up, back again at the ship, and then picked up her skirts and stomped over to Logan.

“We’re traveling south.”

Logan shot her an amused glance. “Aye.”

“Why are we going south?” She made a pretty picture, her hands balled into fists at her waist, an accusatory scowl pursing her lips into a pout.

He had the strangest urge to run his callused finger over her bottom lip, see if it felt as soft as it looked. He shook it off. “We are going south, Lady Townsend, because that is the direction in which the ship is pointed.”

Amber felt like screaming, but instead bottled her rage and spoke, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and exasperation. “Do you think me a fool, Captain Tigre?”

“Logan.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name isn’t really el Tigre. It’s Logan Jeffries. Or just Captain,” he added with a grin.

“Fine,” she said. “Do you think I’m a fool, Mr. Jeffries?”

“I haven’t yet decided,” he told her as he leaned against the wheel, the smile never leaving his lips.

Her eyes were fierce as they locked in on his. “Let me assure you that I am not. You are sailing in the wrong direction.”

Logan couldn’t help himself. He snorted. “And why would that be?”

“England is Northeast from our current location, not South.”

He responded by lifting an eyebrow, a gesture she was all too quickly coming to loathe. “And who said we were going to Europe?”

Amber opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Well, I just assumed…”

“You assumed wrong.”

“Oh.” The word was barely a whisper as it slipped from her parted lips. Logan turned his back to her, thinking that the conversation was over.

Apparently she thought otherwise, moving around the steering column so that she was blocking his view.

“I need to get to England.”

He shrugged. “Not my problem, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think you understand!” Her voice rose in pitch as she struggled to keep her panic in check.

“I’m not turning the ship around, if that’s what you’re asking. Maybe, if you’re good,” his eyes sparkled as they traveled the full length of her body suggestively, “I might set you ashore in Tortuga.”

She gasped. “Tortuga?”

“Then again, I might be tempted to keep you for myself.”

Amber shot him an icy glare. “Not if you were the last man alive.” Then she turned and stormed down the stairs, passing a very surprised quartermaster on her way. Logan waited for the sound of the door slamming before turning to Elijah.

“Mind telling me what that was all about?” Elijah’s hazel eyes were warm, his nose slightly crooked after being broken in a bar fight years ago, his long brown hair pulled back from his face and held at the nape of his neck with a piece of string. Logan smiled as he remembered the fight in which he had broken Eli’s nose, the moment that had cemented them as friends.

“A simple misunderstanding, Eli. The lady thought she had the authority to tell me to turn my own ship around.”

His friend laughed. “She does seem to have a mouth on her, from what I’ve witnessed. What are you planning on doing with her?”

“I’m not going to bed the girl, if that’s what you’re implying.” Logan grimaced, having harbored that very idea once or twice himself.

“And yet she’s staying in your quarters.”

“Would you rather have her sleep in the orlop, surrounded by men with less than honorable intentions, who travel long distances at sea without seeing a woman for months?

“They are trustworthy enough to crew your ship,” Eli pointed out.

“Aye, I would put my life in the hands of these men, no question. Never have I seen a more loyal crew. Doesn’t mean I trust them with an attractive young woman.”

“The question is, Logan,” his friend said, in all seriousness. “Can you trust yourself around her?”

It was early evening when Logan abandoned his post at the helm. In the sky, the sun was slowly sinking, casting an enchanted light across the calm surface of the water. It was his favorite time of day.

After passing the wheel off to Jean he walked the length of his ship, checking on his men and stopping to make idle conversation with the newcomers, hoping to set them more at ease. For the most part, they had taken on the lives of pirates with no opposition, and Logan was pleased to see that. He then headed below to visit Abe, who was limping around the galley as if he had always worked there, making the evening meal with the help of Johnny and Henry. Henry too, seemed to be comfortable in his new surroundings.

Logan spent half an hour in the hold with Eli and Deacon, making an inventory of the cargo they had taken from the other ship, then another fifteen minutes at the feverish side of William, a sailor who had received a terrible blow to the side of his head when the mizzen mast of the Queen Charlotte toppled, and another nasty cut on his leg from a cutlass. The wound on his thigh looked to be infected, and the poor man was drifting in and out of consciousness.

Not wanting to witness Piers pouring alcohol into the open gash, he left the doctor to do his work and with reluctance headed for the stairs that would lead him to his quarters, where a lovely, and most likely furious, woman waited for him.

The sight that met him when he opened the door made him struggle not to smile, however. Amber glanced up from the book she was reading. Perched on a chair at the large table, she threw him an indiscernible look. She had obviously been working hard for a good part of the afternoon. She had pushed all three of her trunks into the back corner, boxing off a section of the room that was as far away from his bed as possible. No doubt she had then rummaged through his own drawers and chests, because she had located a bunch of blankets that, with the help of some ribbon, now hung suspended from the ceiling.

The result was a closed off partition, in which he assumed she planned to sleep.

“Do you like it?” At the sound of her voice he turned to her, surprised to see her luscious mouth curved in a sweet smile. “I took the liberty of borrowing a few of your blankets, I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s very creative, no doubt about that,” he admitted, scratching his chin. She beamed. “And solves the question of privacy. I can only foresee one small problem with it.”

“What would that be?”

“That’s where the tub goes.”

“Tub?” she repeated.

“Aye, my bathtub. Despite what you might have read, not all pirates are disgusting, vile creatures who never bathe. Besides,” he added as he walked over and pulled down a blanket, “I’ve already decided to give you the bed.”

Much to his chagrin, she looked surprised. “Why would you do that?”

He sighed. “I’m not a terrible man, Amber. Do you think I enjoy taking women prisoner on my own ship?” He noticed her shrug and continued. “Because I don’t. I regret having to put you in this situation, I really do. But believe me, your chances are much greater with me than on a corrupt merchant ship.” He finished untying the last blanket and threw it onto the bed, then sheepishly handed her the ribbon.

She snatched it from his fingers without a word of thanks.

“What were you doing on that ship, anyway?” She turned back to her book, pointedly ignoring him. Logan forced himself to breathe as he tried to unclench his jaw. His attempt to be civil was failing.

Realizing he was being as childish as she was, he plopped himself into a chair across from her and picked up the bottle of rum, watching her as he poured a liberal amount down his throat. Their eyes met as she peered over the top of her book, but she dropped her gaze with a frown.

Amber struggled to read, but her mind couldn’t focus with Logan so near. His intense staring wasn’t helping matters much either. Though she couldn’t see him, she could still feel his eyes upon her. Finally she closed the book and set it on the table.

“Can I help you with something, Logan?”

“Nope.” She watched as he kicked off his boots and began to pick at his fingernails with a short blade that he produced from his belt.

“Is there a particular reason you are trying to annoy me?”

“Nope.” She threw up her hands in exasperation just as the door opened and Eli entered.

The quartermaster stared at the scene in front of him, Amber looking furious as Logan absentmindedly dug under his nails with a knife. He cleared his throat to get their attention. “Abe is just about finished with supper. Should I gather the men?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. Please extend an invitation to Noah and Jackson as well.” Eli left and Logan shoved the knife back into his belt, turning to Amber.

“You hungry?”

“Yes,” she answered, her stomach growling to remind her she hadn’t eaten anything that day besides an apple at breakfast.

“Help me clear the table, then.” Amber said nothing in return but picked up her book and began rolling up the maps, moving them to the dresser along the wall. She was about to move the bottle of rum when Logan stopped her. “Might as well leave that.”

Piers was the first to enter, taking a seat across from Amber after the introductions were made. Then came the formidable man she remembered from that morning as the one who had grabbed her. He apologized now, even giving her an awkward bow as he sat down next to her. Jackson, Logan had called him.

Noah appeared in the doorway next, hesitating before coming in. His eyes located Amber and he gave her a warm smile.

“Miss Amber, I take it you are being treated well?”

“As well as one can expect, thank you.” He nodded and seated himself next to Piers. Finally Elijah returned with Johnny and Henry behind him, carrying the evening’s meal. Another man followed and set the table with plates and silverware, placing a tin mug in front of each setting.

Logan sat at the head of the table and motioned for Eli to sit across from him at the opposite end, then began serving himself. The others followed his suit, filling their plates with fish, meat, fruit and bread. Amber decided manners would be wasted on such a group and grabbed a turkey leg, moaning as she tore off a section with her teeth, ignoring the juice running down her chin.

Dropping it to her plate she reached across the table for the bread and ripped off a hunk, bringing it straight to her mouth. She paused. Looking around, she realized that everyone was staring at her.

She could feel the color creeping up her cheeks as she returned the bread to her plate and picked up her knife and fork, which, in her haste to eat, she had failed to notice the others using.

“Would you like some rum, Amber?” Logan asked in an attempt to break the awkward silence. He held out the bottle to her.

“I would prefer water, if that’s possible,” she replied, lifting her napkin to wipe the grease from her chin.

“Of course.” He motioned to the man leaning against the wall, half hidden in the shadows. “Please bring Miss Amber some water. The freshest barrels are the ones we took from the Queen Charlotte, they should be next to the stairs.” With a curt nod, the man left.

Logan turned to Eli. “I walked the length of the ship earlier, and it appears that everybody is adapting well enough.”

“It didn’t take them long to discover the advantages pirating has over sailing. Our men seem especially pleased to have Noah with us,” Eli said, nodding his head towards the blond carpenter, who smiled into his mug.

Jackson threw down his napkin with a flourish, startling Amber. “Daniel was a right foul ass, always slacking, never doing his fair share. He was always stealing from the galley, too. Bastard deserves to rot in—” He noticed Logan’s glare and cleared his throat, picking up his napkin and replacing it in his lap. “May God rest his soul.” Amber ducked her head to hide a smirk.

“I will agree with you that Noah is a much more amiable substitute for Daniel,” said Logan before turning to Noah. “I only hope your carpentry skills are equal to his.”

“They are better,” Eli assured. “He’s already cut a gun port for the new cannon we picked up from the Santa Anselma.”

Logan looked impressed. “I’m glad to hear that.” At that moment someone knocked on the door and Logan bade him enter. “Thank you Andrew,” he said, as the man brought a silver pitcher filled with water to the table and filled Amber’s mug, then returned to his spot against the wall. Logan waited until Amber lifted the mug to her mouth and took a sip before continuing.

“Now, tell me. Is the Captain of the Queen Charlotte on my ship, scrubbing the deck as we speak?”

Elijah shook his head as he reached across the table to grab a bunch of grapes. “He died defending his ship.”

“It’s a pity they felt the need to fight. We offered them the obvious choice.”

Amber gaped at him. “Surely you must be joking!”

He turned his steel eyes towards her. “You must recall us firing a warning shot before we even boarded. We always give the other ship the opportunity to surrender, in which case we need not even draw our weapons. Your Captain,” he said, “refused to surrender. That is the reason for his death.”

“Well, if you are under the impression that every captain will stand by and watch a bunch of pirates loot and raid his ship, I think you’re sadly mistaken.”

“I never mentioned being under such a delusion, Miss Amber. And do not think for a second that just because we offer the other ships an opportunity to yield, that we are not capable of fighting if they choose not too.” His gaze narrowed. “All of my men are trained in cutlass and pistol alike, and would not have boarded your ship were they unable to defend themselves. I do not put the lives of my men so willingly into other people’s hands.”

Amber was silent, staring at the bones on her plate and moving them around with her fork. Logan turned to Eli again. “What about the first mate?”

“Lyle is swabbing the forecastle deck right now. Out of all the sailors who joined us today, he is the only one I remain wary of.”

“What can you tell us of him, Noah?” Logan asked.

“Well, he’s a surly man, very strict. When the Captain wasn’t around he would threaten us with lashings if we dared disobey him, and he always made us do tasks over. No matter how many times you would scrub the same section, he would always walk over it and demand you do it again.”

“Would the other members of your crew verify that?”

“Aye, Captain, I believe they would. Not one of us liked Lyle.”

Logan leaned back in his chair. “Very well. After dinner, Eli, I would like you to gather all of the sailors from the Queen Charlotte on the main, where we will let them decide the fate of their first mate.”

The rest of the supper passed quickly, and when it was over, Andrew, Johnny, and Henry cleared the table as the men left. Amber settled down on the large bed, and Logan pulled out a map and spread it out on the empty table. She tried again to read, but something kept bothering her.

“Logan?”

He never took his eyes off the map. “Hm?”

“What did you mean, when you said that the sailors would decide the fate of Lyle?”

He set his compass down and looked at her. “It means that they will have the power to decide what becomes of him, whether he remains on the ship or not.”

She hoisted herself farther onto the bed, crossing her legs in front of her. “How do they decide?”

“By voting, of course.” He smiled. “You look surprised. Did you think that pirate ships were run like the British navy? Or even as merchant ships? Men have more power as a pirate than they ever would as a sailor. Why else do you think so many sailors turn to pirating?”

“I naturally assumed it was for the money,” she told him with a shrug. “Forgive me for thinking that pirates couldn’t be anything but greedy, selfish, blood-thirsty rogues.”

His smirk widened, and Amber was again struck by how attractive he was. “You’re forgiven. But now we must go outside, for I wouldn’t want you to miss your first ever pirate court.” He got to his feet and motioned towards the door.

“You mentioned that the crew can decide if he stays on the ship or not.” Amber stood. “In this case, what signifies the ‘or not?’”

He stared at her calmly. “If the crew members of the Queen Charlotte so choose, he will be marooned on a deserted island with a single pistol.”

Chapter Six

The stars glittered ominously as Amber passed through the doorway and walked down the stairs to the main deck, all too aware of Logan’s hand on the small of her back. At the bottom, she saw Lyle standing against the longboat with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face. Every so often his eyes would dart to the two men who stood on either side of him, hands resting on the butts of their pistols. The sixteen other sailors who had joined the pirate crew stood along the railing, waiting for their Captain.

Logan instructed Amber to stand by Eli, and then took his place in front of his men. “You have been called here tonight to stand witness to the trial of your former first mate, Lyle. As an officer on the Queen Charlotte, he was in command of your destiny. I can only hope that he was a fair leader,” he said, turning to each of the sailors, “because now the tables have turned and his fate rests in your hands.

“You will each have the chance to speak your mind, and when you are finished, Lyle may say something in his own defense. After that, we will hold a vote, and the verdict will determine whether he remains a member of my crew, or if he is to be marooned. Let’s begin.”

A sailor stepped forward. “Lyle was a lying, cheating, son of a bitch. Marooning him would be too generous.”

“Well, I don’t know…” another added uncomfortably. “He wasn’t too bad when he was sober.”

The first man laughed. “Yeah, on the very rare occasion when he wasn’t drunk he could be a regular angel.”

A third man chimed in. “Remember two weeks ago, when we were sailing back to the colonies? Have you forgotten what he did to Anton?” The rest of the crew nodded.

“David’s lying. I didn’t do nothing that the bastard didn’t deserve,” spat Lyle.

Logan glared at him, his eyes cold and vehement. “It’s not your turn to speak. David?”

David pushed forward a large black sailor that Amber assumed was Anton. “Show them,” he ordered.

Anton hesitated, then unbuttoned his cotton waistcoat and pulled off his shirt. Amber gasped. His whole back was covered in angry red cuts that could have only come from a whip. Logan stepped forward and inspected the wounds.

“These are infected,” he said, calling over Piers and pointing to a nasty cut in particular that had started to green. The doctor pushed his glasses farther onto his nose and leaned in to better see in the dim lantern light, as Anton hung his head and clutched his shirt to his broad chest.

Piers straightened. “I would like to examine the boy more closely, and treat these lesions, if I may.”

“If it were my choice I would agree,” said Logan, “but I believe Anton should have a say. Would you like to go below deck right now and have the doctor take care of your back, or would you rather stay and watch the rest of the trial?

Anton tugged his shirt over his head, wincing as the rough linen chaffed his back. “I’d like to stay.”

Logan nodded. “I don’t blame you. Tomorrow I’ll set you up in the kitchen helping Abe.”

“Now, I don’t want to be shirking my duties,” Anton said, straightening to his full height.

Logan grinned. “Don’t worry lad, I’ll still work you hard, but those wounds need to heal. You’re no good to me dead.” He sobered. “Anyone else have anything to say?”

Amber watched as one by one the sailors stepped forward to state their grievances towards their former first mate. Almost no one had anything kind to say about him, and Lyle’s grimace only became more pronounced as he listened to them. Amber’s attention was torn between watching him, listening to the sailors, and observing Logan from the corner of her eye. From what she’d seen he appeared to be a natural leader, a mix between compassion and severity, ensuring that his ship ran smoothly and without complications. His men seemed to respect him and honor him, all while silently fearing him.

So intent was she in studying him she didn’t notice he was speaking to her until Eli nudged her in the side. Her head shot up and she blushed. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“I asked if you would like to add anything to the men’s accounts.”

“I was only on the ship for a day, but I can tell you what I saw, if you think it would help.” Logan nodded, and Amber continued, careful to avoid meeting Lyle’s threatening gaze. “The second I stepped on deck I felt like he was watching me, and it made me uncomfortable. I had a feeling he didn’t want me there, and although I knew many of the men were hesitant to have me on board,” many of the sailors looked guilty at this point, “only he gave me the impression that he was angry about it.”

“You’re very observant. Anything else?”

She thought for a moment. “Oh, I remember he yelled at Matthew, said he was incompetent. I’m not sure what he did though.”

He nodded, and then looked into the group of men. “Is one of you Matthew?”

“No Captain, he died defending the Charlotte,” said one sailor.

“You ran him through with your cutlass,” another added, and then, rather embarrassed that he had spoken so quickly, dropped his head.

Beside her, Eli snickered. Logan shot him an angry glare, and then turned back to the sailors. “I apologize again for the friends you may have lost earlier today. In my defense however, the man came at me with his own blade, and believe it or not, I prefer not to be skewered as I board a ship.” A few of the men laughed. “But back to the matter at hand. I believe if everyone has had a chance to speak, the accused may now say a few words in his own defense.”

Lyle took one step forward and spit at Logan’s feet, then muttered a few incomprehensible curse words as the men next to him roughly grabbed his arms and shoved him against the longboat.

Logan lifted his foot and shook it, sending saliva flying from the top of his boot. “I believe that settles that. Now, you’ve heard the arguments of your fellow shipmates, listened to the observations of Lady Amber, and have witnessed his own testimony. You must now decide whether to give him another chance, or to maroon him. This is not a decision to be taken lightly, as this man’s life is in your hands and will lie heavy on your conscience should you choose incorrectly. I will give you a few minutes to think it over, then I will call for a vote.”

As the men brooded about their choice, Logan approached Amber and Elijah. “What do you think so far?” he asked, reaching over to pull off Eli’s cravat and wipe his boot. Seeing his friend’s incredulous expression, he shoved the piece of soggy silk back into his hand with a shrug. “You’re on a ship, Eli, why the hell do you need a cravat anyway?”

Amber hid a smile. “I’m impressed, actually. About the trial, not Elijah’s fashion sense, though it is impeccable if I may say so.”

The quartermaster made a show of brushing an invisible piece of lint from his striped waistcoat. “Thank you, my dear, not all of us find pleasure in looking like mongrels.”

Logan cleared his throat. “I could think of nothing I would enjoy more than to listen to you two compliment each other on your clothes, none of which,” he added as he eyed Amber’s gown, “are appropriate for a pirate ship, as flattering as they may be. Unfortunately, I have to get back to business.” He stormed away.

“Why is he so angry?” Amber whispered to Eli, watching as Logan shared a few words with the men who were restraining Lyle.

“I believe that is jealousy,” he replied, and Amber balked.

“Why on earth would he be jealous?”

He laughed. “Because you were flirting with me.” She was about to protest that it was none of Logan’s business with whom she flirted, but Logan took that moment to speak again.

“All those who believe Lyle was a fair leader and are in favor of allowing him to stay with us, albeit stripped of his command, say aye.” The only sound was the waves lapping against the side of the ship. “Those in favor of marooning him?”

There was a steady chorus of  “aye” from the sailors, and Amber noticed that Lyle showed, for the first time, an expression other than distaste or anger. He looked frightened.

“So be it.” Logan said. “Lock him in the brig, where he’ll stay until we sail past an island.” The men beside Lyle seized his arms and dragged him towards the hatch. “Oh, and Creed?”

The stockier of the two men turned around. “Yes, Cap’n?”

“We don’t want a repeat occurrence of last time, so don’t forget to feed him on occasion. Usually, the prisoner is supposed to live long enough to be marooned on the island.”

The pirate gave Logan a large grin, revealing a mouth that was missing several teeth. Lyle looked panicked now, and Amber couldn’t blame him.

“He’s lying,” came Eli’s voice in her ear. “No one’s ever starved to death.” 

“That’s hardly comforting,” she replied with a small smile, which vanished as Logan strode towards them.

“If you’re done flirting, Eli, I believe Amber and I will retire for the evening.”

“Funny, I don’t recall her mentioning that she was tired,” Elijah shot back, stepping in front of Amber. Logan, however, still towered over his friend, and glared down at him from above.

“I don’t recall asking you to become her guardian, Eli, and despite what you may think she is in safe hands. Come on, Amber.” With that, he spun around, expecting her to follow. She turned back to Eli and shot him an imploring look, but he raised his hands and shrugged, as if to say what can I do?

With a resigned sigh, she turned and followed Logan up the stairs and into his cabin. Then she slammed the door shut behind her and glared at him.

“Am I to be marooned as well?”

He looked surprised. “What on earth gave you that preposterous idea?”

“How else am I to explain why you’re treating me as your prisoner?”

“I wasn’t aware that I was treating you as such,” Logan lied. Of course he knew.

“Oh, didn’t you? What would you say then if I told you I wished to sleep with Elijah?”

“Absolutely not,” came his gruff and immediate reply.

She flushed. “I didn’t mean sleep with him, I only meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

“And your answer is still no?”

“If I had changed my mind I would have opened the door and wished you good luck. Yet here I stand, and here you stand.”

“Fine.” She opened her book and took a seat at the table.

“What are you doing now?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m ignoring you.”

He sighed and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Fine, have it your way. You’re acting very childish, you know that?”

She turned in her seat to glare at him. “I’m acting childish? You’re the one…” she trailed off as she watched him pull the shirt from his shoulders, revealing a wide expanse of tan chest and a taut, muscled stomach. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she licked her lips to moisten them. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking a bath,” he answered, looking amused. Amber noticed for the first time the large copper tub that had been placed in the back corner, and the steam that rose from the water inside.

“You’re going to take a bath right here? Now?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his naked torso, her gaze following the trail of black hair at his navel that dipped below the waistband of his breeches, where his hand now strayed.

“Why, do you want to watch?” His eyes shined challengingly, and she was yanked from her stupor, her temper flaring again and an embarrassed blush coloring her cheeks.

“I’m not speaking to you,” she barked in reply, turning back to her book. Behind her Logan snorted.

“So you mentioned. You’re not doing a very good job of it, however.”  She bit back her reply and squared her shoulders. Something whizzed by her and landed at her feet. His breeches. She swallowed the lump in her throat and didn’t dare look up from her book until she heard the water splash over the sides of the tub as he lowered himself into it. Then she stole a glance at him.

Even in the large tub he was scrunched, his lean body folded up as he leaned back with his eyes closed. He had pulled the band from his long hair and it now hung tousled about his head, a single black lock hanging in front of his face. His body was magnificent and brought to mind an image of a roman statue, a figure chiseled in marble, a perfect masterpiece in every way. No, not marble. Bronze.

She shook her head and forced herself to look away. From behind her came the sounds of Logan washing himself, and the smell of soap wafted through the air towards her. She lifted a hand to her curls and thought longingly of the hot water, then pushed the notion away. She would not resort to using his dirty bathwater, no matter how much she wanted to be clean.

Her thoughts wandered to her uncle, and she wondered how things were getting along at home. The butler, Maxwell, had always been smart, and she prayed that he was able to keep Neil in the dark regarding her father’s will. Surely he had created a viable excuse for her sudden absence. She would have supplied him with one, but she had been far too busy worrying about packing for her quick departure and seeing that her dresses were completed on time. But no, she reassured herself, she trusted Maxwell to do the right thing.

But what if Neil somehow found out? Her thoughts became muddled with that familiar fear she had felt for the first time in her mother’s study, holding the will between her shaking hands. True, the will was packed safely in her trunk, but she couldn’t lessen the anxiety that threatened to overtake her.

What if it was already too late? What if she returned home to find her house ransacked, everything stolen or sold to pay for Neil’s gambling debts, the few remaining dollars keeping her uncle in a constant state of inebriation? Her heart was now racing.

The instant Neil had arrived on her mother’s doorstep, begging for compassion from his only sister, things began disappearing around the house. The presence of her mother had prevented him from taking anything too valuable, and he knew not to steal when Amber was in the room. But now that both of them were gone?

The room closed in around her and her vision blurred, her head spinning wildly. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession as she tried and failed to inhale, but the panic was overwhelming and her bodice was still too tight.

Through the fog she heard Logan calling her name and she struggled to respond, her voice barely audible. “I can’t breathe!” He reacted immediately; jumping out of the bath he grabbed a knife from the baldric that lay amidst his other clothes on the floor, and in three short strides he was behind her.

With a quick swipe of the blade he cut through the ribbon tying the back of her dress, then placed the knife between his teeth and used his hands to pull the fabric apart. There was no time to admire the fine craftsmanship of the corset as he slit the stays, cursing under his breath at the absurdities of female undergarments.

As he wrenched the thick corset apart, Amber gasped, sucking in a huge breath. She reached out and grabbed hold of his strong forearm, steadying herself as the earth slowly stopped spinning. When her vision came into focus she saw the confusion and concern etched on his face.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and she gave him a weak nod, removing her hand from his arm. “Good. Now what the bloody hell was that about?”

She blushed, which seemed to make her hair even redder in the flickering candlelight. “It was nothing,” she told him, turning away.

Logan reached out with a growl and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t try and tell me that was nothing. You were suffocating!”

It was at that moment that Amber realized that he was completely naked. Her eyes widened as she glanced down at his glistening chest, watching droplets of water stream down his stomach and over his…

She jerked away from him, but he pulled her even closer. He smiled at her and she followed his gaze down to her breasts, which were all but spilling out the top of her loosened bodice. She gasped as Logan placed his hand on her back, the heat from his skin radiating through her chemise, making her shiver with the unexpected contact.

Logan upbraided himself for his lack of restraint at the same time as he was admiring her supple chest, slender neck, and most surprisingly, her collarbone. He’d never been especially attracted to collarbones, but something about hers made him want to brush her curls aside and lave his tongue along it. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and was taken aback to see the fiery passion sparking in their green depths. Surely she couldn’t be having the same less-than-proper thoughts about him?

She had stopped squirming in his embrace, but he was unsure if was because she had relented, or if she had noticed that wiggling against him only increased his arousal. His curiosity piqued. As he continued to stare at her he brought his other hand around to her back and enclosed her in his arms.

Her mouth opened slightly and her eyes blazed. Convinced that she was encouraging him, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. He heard her gasp, but it didn’t register until she pulled her head back, the same fire glittering in her eyes, and slapped him hard across the face.

He jerked away from her and she stepped back, planting her hands on her hips. As she glared at him, Logan suddenly realized that her expression was not one of arousal, but of fury. As soon as the thought processed he recalled seeing the same look earlier that day when she had tried to slap him and failed, and then again when he had baited her at the helm, challenging her intelligence.

Amber watched as Logan lifted his hand to cover his cheek, now beginning to redden from the force of her strike. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused, and it bothered her. He stared at her for another minute, his expression unreadable. Then he grabbed his breeches and hastily donned them, and without another word left the cabin, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Alone in the room, Amber paced in anger. How could that cad even presume to kiss her? The recollection of his surprise as she hit him brought her some satisfaction, but not enough to make up for the haunting memory of his hand pressed against her back, and the way it had made her feel. Also remarkable was the way her mind kept recalling the image of his long body folded up in the tub, and another of that same body pressed against hers.

Looking down she realized her hands were clenched into tights fists, and forced herself to release them. After waiting a few minutes to ensure that he wasn’t returning, she went about the business of slipping off her dress and putting on a simple, yet modest nightgown.

She sat on the edge of the bed and held the corset in her hands, running her fingers along the frayed ribbon. Thankfully Logan was deft with the knife and hadn’t cut the actual fabric; it would be easy enough to fix once she got to England.

She frowned. If she ever got to England, that was. With a sigh she scooped up the satin dress and dumped it with the corset into the nearest trunk, letting the lid slam down with a satisfying bang. Then she grabbed her discarded book from the table, dimmed the lantern, and crawled onto the large bed. As she pulled back the thick blankets and slipped beneath them, she thought back to the small, hard bed that she had slept on the previous night. Obviously Logan valued his personal comforts more than Captain Watson.

Not that she could complain, however. The bed was plush and warm, the pillows thick with down and soft against her cheek. A clean, masculine scent that she recognized as Logan’s surrounded her, and as she drifted into sleep, her book forgotten next to her, she realized it didn’t bother her.

Logan came into the room some time later to see Amber curled up in the center of his bed, her hair spread out on the pillow and her hand curled under her chin.

He marveled at seeing her sleeping so peacefully, as if he thought perhaps she would wake up at any second with teeth bared and claws extended. He chuckled and rubbed his sore cheek. After storming out following their disastrous kiss, he had spent a few hours on the deck, regaining his composure. The cold air felt good against his stinging face, but only intensified his embarrassment. The longer he stayed outside, the worse he felt.

The girl was an enigma, that much was certain. He had known her for less than a day, and already she had proven herself to be passionate and quick to anger. Yet there was a sadness in her eyes, and her fear upon learning they were not sailing to England proved that there was more to her than her tempestuous façade. And he had no idea what to make of her intense moment of crushing panic, or what could have provoked such an episode. There was something she wasn’t telling him.

By why should she tell him anything, when he was the man who had captured her and was holding her prisoner against her will? She had no reason to trust him. He glanced over again at her sleeping form as he set up a hammock in the far corner of the room, hoisted himself into it, and let the swaying of the ship rock him to sleep.

Chapter Seven

The next morning dawned with the promise of another beautiful day. With a yawn, Logan climbed from his hammock and sent a glance at Amber, who was still sound asleep despite the sunlight creeping through the windows.

Quietly, so as not to wake her, he packed away his hammock and pulled on a clean pair of breeches. He grabbed a shirt from the dresser and brought it to his nose, recoiling in disgust and tossing it aside. It took him several minutes to find a clean shirt, but once he was dressed he gathered up all the dirty clothes into a pile, scooped them into his arms and walked out onto the deck, closing the door behind him.

“Good morning, Captain!” a cheerful voice rang through the haze. Logan turned and peered up at the quarterdeck where Ben, the boatswain, stood at the helm with a merry smile.

“How’s she faring this morning, Ben?” Logan inquired as he walked up the steps, dirty clothes still in hand.

“It’s a beautiful morning, Captain, and she’s sailing just as beautifully. We should be out of these cold waters and reaching Tortuga in two and a half weeks. Two, if the weather stays good.”

“Perfect.”

Ben shifted from one foot to the other and smiled. “Word is you locked that comely girl in your cabin. If her temper is any indication I’m sure she’s—”

“I’m not bedding her,” Logan interrupted.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed…” he trailed off. There was an awkward silence as Ben studied his compass with great intensity, then peered into the fading fog to avoid eye contact. At length he glanced at the pile of clothes in Logan’s arms. “Are we doing laundry today?”

“This is the last clean shirt I could find,” he explained. “And since I’m likely the cleanest person on the ship, no offense,” he added with a smile.

“None taken.”

“I figured everyone could do with a fresh change of clothes.”

“And if I remember correctly, we did just acquire a crate of lye from the Colonial Princess.”

“That’s right, we did, didn’t we?  Perfect. I’ll ask Abe to heat up some water after lunch,” he said as he shifted the bundle of clothes to his other hip, “so if you have anything to be washed, bring it to the kitchen before noon.”

“Will do, Captain.” With a goodbye, Logan jogged down the stairs, waved a greeting to the men who were unfurling the topsail, then went below deck.

Abe looked up from the stove as Logan entered the galley. “Morning Cap’n! Pretty day, isn’t it?” He noticed the clothes. “Are we doing the wash today?”

“I had hoped to. Would you mind helping after lunch?”

“You don’t have to ask me, Cap’n, it’s part of my job. Of course I’ll do my duty to the ship. Now, would you like some tea this morning, or can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”

Logan snapped to attention. “We have coffee?”

“Aye, I found a barrel in the cargo hold. We must have picked it up from a ship and forgotten about it.”

“Well, how will you filter the grounds?”

“With this,” Abe held up a dark stained stocking. He saw Logan’s expression and chuckled. “It didn’t start out this color, don’t worry. I tested it out earlier to see if it worked.”

“And did it?” Logan’s mouth was already salivating at the thought of a steaming cup of coffee.

“Aye, it worked all right,” he said with a grin, “And you can hardly taste the feet!”

Logan laughed as Abe went to work scooping the ground beans into the stocking.

“How is your leg treating you today?” Logan asked, watching his progress.

“Hardly botherin’ me at all,” Abe declared with pride, suspending the stocking above a pot and setting the hot water to drip through it. Then he raised his right leg, which ended abruptly below the knee, and pulled up his breeches to show off the wound. Logan was pleased to note that it looked healthy and clean. “The doctor said he would stop by this afternoon to see how I’m faring.”

“I’m glad. And you’re getting around just fine?”

“Noah made me this crutch yesterday,” he waved it in the air with a smile. “Real nice, too. My brother had one that was too tall, gave him trouble. Told me it was rubbing him all uncomfortable like. But this one fits just right.”

“The men do seem to be taking a liking to Noah.”

“Aye, he seems to be a jolly enough fellow, if a little shy. Do you want something to eat? I wasn’t sure what to make for breakfast, so I made some honey cake, if you want some.” He held out a plate piled high with the squares of sweet cake. Logan took one and bit off a corner, his eyes widening as the flavor rolled over his tongue like molasses. Abe smiled. “Good?”

“Considering that Peter used to serve dry biscuits for breakfast, often with mealworms still inside, I would say this is a much needed improvement.” He finished the rest of the cake and reached for another. “Where did you get the recipe?”

“My mum used to make them, I guess I just picked it up from her. We had extra honey and spices in the hold, I hope it’s all right that I took some.”

Logan laughed. “You can take anything you want, as long as you keep surprising me.”  He finished off the cake and grinned. “I suppose you’ve also taken into account that cooks make more than the rest of the crew? Add to that the five hundred dollars you’ll get for your leg, and you’ll be a rich man, my friend.”

Abe’s brown eyes twinkled. “Aye, I’ve taken both into account, and I’m rightly pleased.”

“Pleased about what?” Eli said from the doorway. Logan noticed that his friend was dressed more appropriately than the previous day, in well-worn wool breeches and a tight fitting black linen shirt. He was rolling up his sleeves as he walked into the galley. “What is Abe pleased about?” he repeated.

“His monetary success,” Logan answered. “Nice outfit.”

Eli shot him a glare. “Don’t think I did it because you were poking fun of me last night. Everything else smelled.”

“Lucky for you all my clothes are dirty as well,” Logan said, nodding at the pile in the corner. “We’re going to wash everything after lunch.”

“Wonderful.” He grabbed a honey cake and shoved it into his mouth. “Dear god, did you make these, Abe?” he mumbled, spewing crumbs as he spoke.

“Aye.”

“This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten, and I’m not exaggerating.”

Abe smiled in response. “I love being in the galley, much more than being out on deck. I was never comfortable climbing up and down the rigging.”

Logan clapped him on the back. “We’re glad to have you here.”

Eli drank half of his coffee in one gulp, and then grabbed another cake. “How did last night go?”

“What do you mean, how did last night go?” Logan replied, refusing to stand down to Eli’s stare.

“You know very well what I mean. After the trial you went into your cabin with a young, beautiful, and spirited woman. As far as I know she assumes you are holding her prisoner, along with the rest of the crew, I might add. I want you to tell me how the rest of the night went.”

Logan shrugged his shoulders. “It went fine. Nothing happened,” he easily lied.

“Where did she sleep?”

“In my bed.” Eli choked on his coffee. “Relax, I was in a hammock on the other side of the room.”

“I still think this is a bad idea, Logan. She may be impassioned, but I have a strong feeling that she’s an innocent.”

“And?”

“And I know you. Ten minutes alone with any woman and her reputation is soiled, if not her virtue.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “You think that I would take advantage of her?”

The tall quartermaster bit back a laugh. “I think that you have to stop women from throwing themselves upon you as soon as you flash them that dashing smile, with a seductive look in those brooding eyes.”

Logan lifted an eyebrow. “Dashing smile? Brooding eyes?”

“I got a little caught up in the imagery, my apologies. The fact remains, however, that you have a way of making a woman feel like a woman, like she’s important to you.”

Logan was taken aback. “How do you know all this?”

Eli gave him a sheepish smile. “A few of your broken-hearted mistresses have come to me for comforting.” Abe laughed from his position at the stove as he stirred the contents of a large pot.

“Is that so? Well, I hope you were able to comfort them properly,” Logan said with a chuckle.

“For the record, they came to me. I did not seek them out.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Listen, whatever you do with my discarded mistresses is your own business.”

They were momentarily interrupted as Abe hobbled over and extended a ladle filled with a thick, red stew. After both men had tasted it and voiced their approval, the topic returned to Amber.

“Did you talk to her at all last night?” Eli prodded.

“A little, though I find it hard to converse with a woman who wishes I was dead.”

“Valid point. Did you ask her why she was on the Queen Charlotte?”

“I did,” Logan said as he stood up so that Abe could get to the barrel he had been sitting on, then went to lean against the wall with his arms crossed. “She pretended to ignore me and wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I wonder why she was so anxious to get to England,” Eli mused aloud as he sipped his coffee.

“Maybe she’s goin’ to see her husband,” offered Abe.

Logan shook his head. “She’s not married.”

“How can you be sure? She’s looks to be the right age.”

“No ring,” Logan said. “And I can also just tell.”

“He’s practically made it a life skill to be able to tell if a woman is married or not. Hazards of the trade I guess,” Eli explained to Abe. A look from Logan quickly shut him up.

“Well how old do you think she is, Elijah?” asked Abe as he added another pungent spice to the stew.

“I reckon about mid-twenties or so.”

“She sure doesn’t act like it,” Logan muttered.

“I’m twenty-three,” came Amber’s cool voice behind them, causing the men to swing their heads in her direction. She met Logan’s gaze as she walked towards the center table. “And I act in the only rational way one can while dealing with you.”

Abe jumped forward with the pot of coffee and a mug. “Good morning, Miss Amber.” She took it from him with a grateful nod. While she poured some for herself, Logan took the opportunity to survey her appearance.

A faint blush was visible on her cheeks from the brisk walk outside, and her curls were twisted on top of her head, a feat that must have been difficult to accomplish without a lady’s maid to assist her. As evidence of this, a few strands fell from the pins as she tilted her head back to drain the last drops of coffee from her cup. Her dress was dusty pink, and cut stylishly low as was the current fashion, though it was still far less tight and revealing than her previous gown. Logan continued his silent scrutiny, from the small pearl bobs in her ears, to the lace at her wrists, down to the soles of her slippers peeking out from the hem of her dress. When he was finished, he was disappointed that he could find no fault; she was beautiful.

He looked up to see that Eli had left, and Amber was staring at him. “Are you quite finished?”

“Excuse me?”

“Please don’t play games with me, Captain.” The last word came out as a sneer. “If you’re done gawking at me, I’d like to discuss how we are going to get through these next couple of weeks. I’ve come up with a solution.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you now?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he asked as his eyebrow rose another degree. She scowled.

“Obviously I don’t like you, and you don’t like me—”

“I never said that,” Logan cut in. “Abe, did I ever say that I disliked Miss Amber?”

Abe stopped pouring her another cup of coffee, looked back and forth between the two, and then nervously cleared his throat. “Well, no, you didn’t say anything of the sort.” Logan turned to Amber with a triumphant shrug. “You aren’t being very nice to her, though.”

Logan’s cockiness faded as she raised her eyebrow back at him. “Like I said: you don’t like me, and I don’t like you. The only way we are going to survive being on a ship together is if we avoid each other.”

“It’s a large ship, but don’t you think we will run into each other on occasion? Especially during meals, and at night when you sleep in my bed?”

“I’ve figured that out too,” she replied, refusing to respond to his baited comment about the bed, knowing he said it to irk her. “We speak to each other as little as possible, and keep the conversation polite and impersonal.”

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What if I tell you it isn’t going to work?”

Abe shook his head with a silent groan as he peeled potatoes. Amber crossed her arms. “Why on earth wouldn’t it?”

Logan pulled himself from his leaning stance against the wall and approached her, stopping to grab an apple from a barrel. “I’d think it would be quite obvious to you, by now.” She narrowed her gaze as he took a bite. “I’m a pirate. I can’t be civil.” Juices from the ripe apple ran down his chin as he chomped. “So I guess you have to come up with a new plan.”

Amber stood. “I guess I do.” As she walked past him she knocked his mug off the table, spilling hot coffee all over the front of his breeches. Logan leapt away with a bellow as she disappeared around the corner.

Abe approached with a damp cloth and tried to dab at the mess, but Logan snatched the rag from him and rubbed angrily.

“I have never met a more irritating woman in my entire life,” he seethed as he pressed the cloth to his burned thighs.

Abe bit back a smile. “I hate to say this, but I think you deserved that one.”

Chapter Eight

The rest of the day passed without much action. Amber made good on her half of the deal by avoiding Logan as much as possible. He too decided to adhere to the plan, his change of heart perhaps stemming from the incident at breakfast. But all too soon, it seemed, the sun sank below the horizon and the smell of dinner cooking tempted the crew to rush through their nightly duties so that they could eat sooner.

After procrastinating as much as possible, Logan surrendered the helm to Jean and did a quick survey of the ship that led him to the door to his quarters, where Amber had been most of the day. He sighed and entered the room.

At the sound of his entry she spared a single glance in his direction, then returned her attention to the worn copy of Othello she held in her hands. By the looks of it, she had almost finished it.

“Hungry?” he asked as he walked over to the clothes that hung drying on the rafters. She licked her finger and turned the page. “Are you still ignoring me?” She stayed silent. “Othello kills himself at the end.” He could see the muscles in her jaw working as she held back her angry response. Shaking his head, he pulled off his shirt and replaced it with a clean, though damp, one. The door opened again, sending in a gust of cool air as Eli entered. Amber looked up and smiled.

“Good evening Elijah,” she said as she marked her page and put the book down beside her.

“Hello Miss Amber. I hope you had a relaxing day?”

“I did, thank you very much for asking. And you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it relaxing, but it was a pleasant enough afternoon. Are you hungry?”

“Famished.”

“That’s good, because Abe made some incredible stew for tonight’s dinner—”

“Enough!” Logan interrupted, looking annoyed. “I can’t take much more of you two magpies, or I’m going to lose my mind!”

The meal progressed in strained silence, Noah occasionally sending fearful glances in his Captain’s direction, afraid to say anything that might provoke his ire. Amber was less affected by Logan’s dismal countenance, but could see how it would repel unwanted conversation. Once the meal had finished and the place settings were cleared, Logan grabbed a jacket from a peg near the door and, without saying a word, stormed out.

Noah cleared his throat and excused himself, leaving Amber alone with Eli.

“Well, at least the food was good,” Eli said, for lack of a better response to the evening’s awkwardness.

“It was delicious,” she replied with a smile. “Though was it necessary to point out that he had dribbled some broth on his shirt? I was afraid he was going to throw the bowl at your head. I think you got off lucky with a glare.”

Eli chuckled. “Logan’s biggest problem, in my opinion, has always been his inability to lighten up. I’ve taken it on as my responsibility to tease him mercilessly, in the hope that one day he will realize that life isn’t as dire as he makes it out to be.”

A silence fell over them as they contemplated this. It was Amber who finally spoke. “How long until we reach Tortuga?”

“I would say about two weeks, maybe a little more. We are at the mercy of the weather.”

“And the temperature?”

“It’ll warm up in a few days as we travel farther south. Then you won’t be stuck inside the cabin as much, and you’ll be able to enjoy the Caribbean sun.” He stood and walked to the dresser where the maps had been rolled up before dinner, selected one and spread it out on the table. “We are around here,” he said, pointing to a spot in the Atlantic near the coast of Connecticut. “In about a week and a half we will stop in the Bahamas to leave Lyle, then continue down to Northwest coast of Haiti, where Tortuga lies.”

“I’ve only heard a little about Tortuga, and none of it very pleasant. Does it live up to its reputation?”

Eli rolled up the map and grabbed a handful of grapes from the bowl that was set out after dinner. “I’m sure many of the stories are exaggerated,” he said as he popped one in his mouth. “But to answer your question, yes. It has a long history of violence and is considered a stronghold for pirates because it is easily defensible. There is talk that it won’t be used for much longer as the French outlawed piracy a while ago. But for now, we retain control and they have yet to breach our defenses.”

“And it is truly filled with debauchery? Taverns and wenches?” The smile that crossed his face then could only be described as fondly reminiscent. Amber laughed. “I take that as a hearty yes, then. I must say I’m curious to see it!”

He sobered. “Tortuga is no place for a lady. I doubt Logan will let you set foot off this ship when we land.” She pouted. “That reminds me, what on earth were you doing on the Queen Charlotte?”

“Trying to get to England as expediently as possible,” she said with a shrug.

“Not enough of an explanation, dear. There has to be more to the story than that.”

“My mother…” she searched for the strength to say the words out loud. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “My mother passed away last week.”

He reached across the table and took her hand for a brief second, urging her to continue. She struggled to find a way to explain her predicament without giving away too much information. “Her dying wish was that I go to England and live with my father’s family.”

“Do you want to live in England?” he interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it seems to me that you are old enough to choose where you want to live. If you want to go stay with your father’s family, then do it. But if you wanted to stay in the colonies, you should have. You’re laughing at me. Why are you laughing at me?”

“You really think I have a choice in the matter? I’m a woman! My life is decided for me, it always has been, and always will be.”

Eli stared at her incredulously. “But you seem so independent, I thought—”

“My mother raised me to think for myself and express my opinions. But surely you realize that I am an oddity among the fairer sex?”

“Well, yes. I can’t say I’ve ever met a woman like you.”

“Exactly. Despite how independent I might be, a female is forever under the control of her parents or husband. Or, in my case, my uncle.” She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “I wish I had been born a boy. Things would be so much easier.”

Eli looked appalled. “You would make a terrible boy!”

“Why would you say that?” Amber asked him, taking offense to his statement.

“I should think it would be obvious. You’re far too pretty to be a boy,” he said, trying to keep a straight face and failing. She smiled back at him.

“That sounds like something my mother would say to me. I think she would have liked you,” she told him, her voice breaking.

Eli hesitated before walking around the table to take her into his arms. “I’m sorry about your mother. She must have been an incredible woman,” he said as she allowed herself to lean against his shoulder, fighting back tears. His hands stroked her back, calming her.

Suddenly a gust of wind rushed into the room as the door was opened and shut. Amber lifted her head to see Logan stomp over to his trunk, throw open the lid and retrieve a pair of wool mittens. His face was twisted in an expression of anger, and before he stormed out Amber heard him mutter what sounded like “hypocrite” under his breath.

The whole incident took no more than thirty seconds. As Amber pulled away from Eli’s embrace, she peered up into his face. “Is he always like that?” To her surprise he began laughing.

“I wouldn’t typically describe Logan as an angry individual, but recently something has been pushing his buttons.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “That something has been you. He’s not used to such a worthy opponent, especially a woman. He’s a very generous, caring man, but he is also stubborn and has a strong temper. Something about you just brings out the worst in him.”

She sat down on the large bed and tucked her feet beneath her. “I’ve noticed.”

“I suppose it’s hard not to. It’s a shame you two don’t get along.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you are more alike than you may think, or even want to admit to yourself. He’s not used to such a strong-willed female, but I know for certain that he feels terrible about putting you in this position.” He stood and walked over to the door, throwing on his jacket. “I know I don’t provide a good example, but maybe you should take it easy on him.”

With that he left, leaving Amber to think about his words. She sat on Logan’s bed deliberating for a few minutes, then, reaching a decision, pulled herself to her feet.

The clothes Logan had washed that afternoon had been rung out and hung over the rafters to dry. Feeling the arm of a shirt, she deemed them dry enough and began folding them in neat piles on the table. It took her less than a half an hour, but when she was done she felt she had made an effort to bridge the cavernous gap between them.

As a final offering of truce, she set out some blankets for him near the spot where he would put the hammock. Then she changed into her nightgown and settled beneath the blankets with her book to wait for his return.

She must have fallen asleep, though, for when she awoke the sun was up and Logan was nowhere to be seen. The piles of clothes had been put away and the blankets she had laid out for him were folded and placed on the trunk at the foot of the bed. She chastised herself for not being able to stay awake long enough for him to go to bed, to voice her desire to stop fighting.

She was reaching for a clean dress when she saw the books on the table, and with curiosity she approached them and picked up the one on the top. It felt heavy in her hands as she turned it to read the cover. “Plato’s Republic” was printed in faded gold lettering, and as she ran her fingers lightly over the embossed words she felt a shock of pleasure travel down the length of her body. Such a beautiful book must have been expensive, and Amber couldn’t wait to read it.

It seemed a truce had been called.

Eli had been right; once Amber and Logan made an effort not to aggravate each other, they actually got along. When she found him on deck to thank him for the book, he met her gaze and gave her a warm smile.

“You’re welcome.”

The remainder of the day passed without incident, as did the rest of the week. As they traveled farther south it continued to get warmer, and Amber began bringing her books outside to sit near the bow, letting herself get lost for hours in the stories. At other times she would just lean over the railing and enjoy the sun radiating down and heating up her back. Occasionally Logan or Eli would join her, and they would either converse or sit in amiable silence, both of which suited her.

At night she ate dinner in Logan’s cabin along with the other men, and then bathed in the large tub in the corner of the room. More often than not Logan sat at the table reading his own books or examining a map while she relaxed in the hot water, her naked form shielded from his view by a curtain of blankets that he had strung for her privacy. Once she was dry and dressed, they switched places.

One night, as she listened to him splashing in the tub while she brushed her long curls, she asked him why he never bathed before her. He appeared from behind the sheet then, a pair of breeches hanging low on his taut hipbones, running a towel through his wet hair. With a laugh he told her that in the course of a single day he became so filthy that if Amber used his water she would come out dirtier than she had gone in.

She had to admit to herself that it was a plausible explanation, for she often watched him as he went about his duties on the ship, and he was always busy. Earlier that afternoon for example, she observed as he stripped off his shirt and practiced sword fighting with his men. Her book forgotten on her lap, she was drawn to the sight of him. The glistening muscles of his back and shoulders that rippled as he moved. The laugh in his throat and the smile on his lips. The dark hair scattered across his chest, tapering down to a fine trail that lead down his abdomen, accentuating his lean stomach, and pulling her gaze further down to the front of his pants…

She shook the haunting image from her head, then shut her book and stood. “I think I’ll turn in early,” she explained.

Logan nodded and watched while she crawled beneath the covers, turned her back to him, and fell asleep.

Alone with his thoughts, he groaned and pulled his hair back from his face. As much as he hated to admit it, Amber had unknowingly proven to him that she was intelligent and charming, not to mention attractive as hell. He struggled every day to keep his conversation civil, to keep himself from saying something that would cause her adorable temper to flair, to keep his hands off of her. It was getting harder, especially because he was aware that if she had any idea of what he was planning to do to her, she would never forgive him.

On their thirteenth day at sea, Amber opened the door to the cabin and had to lift a hand to her eyes to shield her gaze from the blinding sunlight. Making her way across the deck, she found Logan, Eli and Jean examining a large map that had been laid across a crate. As she approached further she noticed a piece of parchment, scribbled with words she couldn’t read. Hearing her footsteps Logan hastily rolled up the paper and shoved it into his pocket, then closed the distance between them.

“Did you sleep well?”

She nodded in response, trying to peer around him. “What are you doing?”

“Just making some last minute adjustments,” he told her as he took her by the arm and led her towards the galley. “We located a suitable island on which to abandon Lyle early this morning, and rather than take our chances in finding another one further in the Bahamas, we rowed him ashore and left him there. Now we’ve changed our course slightly, and so should reach Tortuga in two days time. Scone?” he offered, and she took the pastry with a frown. “Did I say something to upset you?”

She shrugged, and with an embarrassed smile responded, “It’s nothing, really. I’m glad Lyle is gone, he made me uncomfortable and I don’t doubt he deserved his punishment. But I was hoping to go ashore for a little bit…” her voice trailed off.

“Well, it’s your lucky day then, because we need to stop off at another nearby island to get some more fresh water. Would you like to help us gather fruit?” Her face lit up, and he held back a grimace as guilt washed over him. He instead told her to go change into a lighter dress, and to meet him on the starboard side near the longboat. She scampered off, and he looked down at the unfinished scone she had left behind, picked it up, and crushed it in his hand. The crumbs fell to the floor, forgotten as Logan stormed from the deck.

Amber sat at the front of the small boat as Pax and Deacon rowed, her arm flung over the side, embracing the feel of the warm water racing between her fingers. Colorful fish darted from under the shadow of the boat as it passed above them, and a sea turtle swam languidly beside them for a hundred yards or so before turning and gliding back in the other direction.

The boat scraped against the sand then, and too eager to wait any longer, Amber kicked off her shoes and lifted her skirts, jumped over the side and began wading towards the beach. Henry and Johnny followed her.

The white sand warmed her feet as she ran out of the water. The young boys watched her with bemusement as she knelt down and began sifting through the sand, inspecting every shell that she found, tossing away the flawed ones and making a pile of the perfect ones. She stopped when she heard Deacon clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry, Miss Amber, but Logan instructed us to help you find some fruit. It looks like there are some coconut trees just at the top of the hill over there. Why don’t you go collect a bunch, while we finish pulling the boat out of the water? Johnny and Henry will come with you.”

With a nod, she picked up the hem of her skirt and lifted it to her waist, making a basket out of the yellow fabric. She relocated her shells into this pouch, and then headed farther up the beach to where Deacon had pointed out a grove of coconut trees. Henry bent down and picked up one of the large fruits, but dropped it hastily when Johnny warned him that it was rotten and most likely infected with bugs.

“The ripe ones are scattered closer to the base of the trunk, but the green ones up in the tree will keep for longer. You want me to climb up and shake ‘em lose?”

Amber looked up the length of the tree, contemplated the probability that she would be able to shimmy her way up in a dress. Though she had been an avid tree climber as a child, the trees at home had more branches for her to pull herself up, and she always did it in her shift. “Go ahead Johnny, but try not to fall.” He rolled his eyes and scaled the trunk in less than a minute.

“Watch out!” he called down to them as he began shaking the large palm fronds with vigor. Amber leapt aside as one crashed to her feet, then scooped it up and deposited it in her skirt. In minutes her makeshift apron was filled to the top with coconuts.

She turned to call Pax and Deacon to help her carry them back to the boat, but they were gone. Coconuts and shells tumbled from her skirt as she ran down to the shore. She saw the two men rowing the longboat back towards the ship, ignoring her when she called out for them to stop, though Pax glanced back at her. She couldn’t read his expression from this distance, but she imagined the slimy rat felt guilty for stranding her on a deserted island with the two boys.

Anger was replaced quickly with fear as she watched the pirates secure the longboat to the side of the ship, then raise anchor and begin sailing away from the island.

“I wouldn’t worry, Miss,” came Henry’s soft voice from behind her.

She spun around and shot him a look that made him shrink back. “What do you mean don’t worry? They’ve left us to die here!”

Johnny started laughing then. “He’s comin’ back!”

“Excuse me?”

“The Cap’n wanted me to tell you to sit tight for a few hours while they took care of some business, and that he’d be back for us as soon as they were done. Oh, and that he’s sorry.”

The last bit of Amber’s control on her own anger vanished. “Sorry? He’s sorry?” Even Johnny backed away from her at this point. “What the bloody hell could be so important that he thought abandoning me was a good idea?”

Henry looked torn between wanting to approach her to comfort her, and at the same time wanting to stay out of range of her arms, which were swinging wildly as she yelled at them. He chose to stay where he was. “He told us that had heard of another ship hiding in those caves over there,” he said, pointing to the island next to theirs, about three miles away. “He told us it wasn’t safe for you to stay on board while they found and captured it.” Her anger dissipated, but only a little.

“Well, then why couldn’t he just tell me?”

“Would you have listened to him, even if he had?” Johnny asked her with a smirk. She thought about it, and shrugged.

“Probably not. But it still doesn’t excuse what he did!” She dropped down to the sand, sitting cross-legged with her arms folded.

“What are you doing now?” Henry inquired.

“Waiting,” was her curt reply. The two boys looked at each other, then back at her, and then left to go hunt for more fruit. She was determined to sit and wait for that coward Logan to return, but the heat of the sun made her drowsy. She was nodding off to sleep when an ear-splitting shot rang through the air, reverberating off of the mountains behind them and echoing loudly. “What was that?” she called up the beach to the boys.

“I’m assuming they just found the other ship,” Johnny responded from the lush canopy of a tree, then went back to throwing mangoes down to Henry. Her heart began pounding and she jumped to her feet, trying to see beyond the trees that blocked her view of the caves where the noise of the fight resounded. Looking around her, she picked up her skirts and began running towards the direction of the noise, stopping short in her tracks as she came to the crest of a hill.

The Imperial Shadow was standing in the shallows of the bay, portside facing the smaller schooner that was obviously caught off guard and racing to prepare their cannons to return volley. The first of their guns fired, ripping a hole in the Shadow’s main topsail.

But the regal frigate had more guns and the added advantage of surprise, and the battle was over quickly. A well-aimed cannonball took down the schooner’s foremast, the fallen rigging and sails creating enough chaos on deck to distract the crew from noticing as Logan scaled the side of their ship with a boarding axe. The crewmembers turned around to find him standing with a pistol to their Captain’s throat, and they didn’t hesitate to drop their own weapons. By this time, fifteen more of Logan’s men had climbed onto the ship, their weapons trained on their captives.

Amber watched as Logan ducked below deck with Elijah to survey the cargo, then returned and barked an order. Anton, Creed, Jean, and a few others Amber couldn’t name ushered the prisoners to the side of the boat, where they were commanded to jump overboard. Those who hesitated were shoved in the back with the butt of a gun and sent toppling. The swim to shore wasn’t far, and minutes later the crew stood soaking wet on the beach, watching Logan ransack their ship.

He transferred what looked like crates of food to his own ship, as well as several trunks and barrels. After deciding he had everything of value, he and his men stacked barrels of gunpowder into a large pile in the center of the deck and rowed back to the Imperial Shadow. Once the small boat was again secured to the side of the larger ship, Eli handed Logan a musket, which he then hoisted to his shoulder, aimed, and fired directly into the topmost barrel. There was a huge explosion, and the smaller ship was engulfed in flames and sank.

From her spot on the hill Amber found herself jumping and cheering, and stopped immediately. “He tricked you, remember?” she mumbled to herself as she walked back towards the beach. “You should hate him. No, you do hate him!”  And still she found herself attracted to his strength, his power. She had been enthralled watching him delegate orders and take control of the situation, had even feared for his safety when the first defensive shot was fired. “Absolutely not,” she chided herself, “you do not care about him. He’s a cold-hearted bastard and the least he could have done was get himself killed today.”

“What did you say?” came Henry’s tentative voice.

Her head jerked up. “Nothing, I was just talking to myself.”

Johnny picked up a mango from the large pile of fruit they had gathered and bit into it, the sticky juice running down his chin as he spoke. “I thought only crazy people talked to themselves.”

“Well, my mother always taught me it was a sign of genius to talk to yourself, and only a sign of insanity when you started answering back.” Henry grinned, while Johnny looked confused.

“Whatever you say,” he said as he threw the large seed aside and hopped to his feet. “Did you see the battle?”

“Yes. Toss me one of those mangos please?” She was about to bite into it when Johnny called out for her to wait.

“That one’s rotten. You can see it’s got worms inside. You’ll get sick if you eat it.” With a shudder, she dropped the fruit.

She selected a healthy looking banana instead, and went to work peeling it. “We won.”

“Well, of course we won. Cap’n Logan’s never lost a battle to this day.”

“That we know of,” Henry added, shutting his mouth after seeing the angered look his friend gave him.

“He’s never lost a battle,” Johnny repeated, his arms crossed across his chest in fierce defiance, almost daring them to question his loyalty. Henry avoided eye contact, and Amber continued to eat her banana. It wasn’t long before Henry pointed out the ship coming into view. He and Johnny began carting their fruit to the shore in preparation for the longboat, which was lowered and set out towards them as soon as the ship hit the shallow waters. As the boat approached, Amber saw with satisfaction that Pax and Deacon looked extremely tense.

With faces set in grim expectation of what was to come, they hauled the boat onto the sand, and shooting Amber a nervous glance, they began filling it with the fruit. She leaned up against a tree, casually watching them until they had pitched the last coconut into the bottom of the boat, then hoisted herself upright and began walking towards them, tossing a large mango up into the air and catching it as she approached.

Pax eyed the fruit with suspicion, taking a step back as she drew within throwing distance. Instead, she sent him a dazzling smile, and stepped into the boat, sitting down amidst the fruit.

Deacon and Pax looked at each other, and after the two young boys had settled in, they pushed the boat back into the water. Sitting next to each other and facing Amber, they began rowing towards the Shadow, still wary. They had pulled alongside the ship and were waiting for a ladder to be thrown down when Pax spoke. “I wish you would just say something, already!”

“What would you like me to say, Pax?” she asked, her voice tinged with false innocence as Henry scurried up the ladder, Johnny at his heels.

Deacon looked down at his feet as Pax threw up his hands. “Something, anything. Just tell us you aren’t angry at us!”

“We didn’t want to do it,” Deacon grumbled.

Amber stood and reached out with one hand to grasp the bottom rung, the mango still in her other. She smiled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you boys were afraid of me.” They abashedly dropped their gazes. “Good. Because you have every reason to be.” Their heads shot up in surprise to witness the feral grin on her face. “Mango?” She tossed the fruit at Pax, who, still stunned, made no effort to catch it, letting it bounce off of his forehead. Then she pulled herself up the ladder and over the side, ignored the pirate Captain who watched her from his spot near the mast, and went into the cabin. The door swung shut with a bang.

Logan walked to the side of the ship and watched as Pax and Deacon hooked the ropes to the boat, then climbed up the ladder. “What happened? What did she say?” he inquired as soon as they were standing on the deck. “What did you say to her?”  Deacon scowled, and Pax shook his head with anger.

“Next time,” the freckled boy said, “you get someone else to do your dirty work.” Logan reacted instantly as Pax threw something at him, catching it in his hands. Looking down, he saw it was a mango, and raised an eyebrow in question as Deacon stormed off. “Or better yet, do it yourself,” Pax concluded, before following his friend below deck.

Logan shrugged and bit into the mango, his face turning into one of disgust as he tasted it. His chewing stopped as he looked down at the orange fruit and saw small worms wriggling inside, and almost gagged. He spit over the side of the boat, then reared back and threw the mango as far as he could, watched it bob in the gentle waves of the Caribbean waters. He waited for the nausea to pass, then turned around and found Johnny standing there with a grin on his face.

“What?”

“I told her not to eat that one, said it would make her sick. I guess she decided you deserved to have it, instead!”

Chapter Nine

Amber’s temper had faded only to flare up again as soon as Logan entered the cabin just before dusk. She picked up the nearest object, which happened to be a candlestick, and threw it at his head.

Her aim was off however, and it hit the wall a foot and a half to the left of his amused face before crashing to the floor. He retrieved it and placed it back on the table. “I take it you’re still mad at me, then.”

“Always the observant one, aren’t you Logan?” she snarled.

He sat down and tugged off his boots. “Haven’t you ever heard of forgive and forget?” He pulled off his hat and tossed it onto the table.

“Haven’t you ever heard of decency and—” she stopped as she noticed the blood on the side of his temple. “Logan, you’re bleeding!”

He reached a hand up to find the source of the blood, wincing as his fingers passed over the raw skin. “Yeah, it hurts like hell, too.”

“What happened?” she asked, parting his dark hair to inspect the cut.

“Well, we found the other ship we had been looking for, and took control easily.”

“I know,” she interrupted, “I watched the whole thing.”

He looked thoughtful for a minute, but then continued. “When I was going below deck to inspect the cargo, something fell on me, hit me in the head.” He shrugged. “Not the most interesting thing that’s happened to me.”

“Should leave a nice scar, though,” Amber said as she pulled a handkerchief from her trunk and walked over to the dresser, where a pitcher of water sat next to a half empty bottle of rum.

“Why Amber, I didn’t know you cared!” came Logan’s sarcastic reply, which brought her anger bubbling back to the surface. Her hand moved from the handle of the water pitcher, and instead, emptied a vigorous amount of rum onto the square cloth. Smiling sweetly, she handed it to him and watched as he pressed it against the side of his head.

In an instant he was on his feet, the handkerchief thrown onto the floor in anger. “Damn it to hell Amber! Do you have any idea how much that stings?”

“I have a pretty good idea, and it’s nowhere near the amount of pain you deserve for everything you’ve done to me!”

Logan rolled his eyes and tossed his hand into the air in exasperation. “I haven’t done anything, except try and protect you!”

“When did I ask you for your protection?” she countered. “I never asked to be on your damn boat in the first place, if you recall.”

He scowled and grabbed his hat, shoving it onto his head. “Believe me, you think I want you here? All you’ve done thus far is cause trouble for me and my men, and I want to be rid of you even more than you want to be rid of me.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Amber recoiled in shock, but then collected her wits and glared at him, hurt still shining in her eyes.

“Fine. When we reach Tortuga, I’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No you’re not leaving the ship in Tortuga.”

She leaned across the table towards him. “I’d like to see how you plan on stopping me, then.”

Two nights later the ship dropped anchor in Tortuga. Amber continued to give Logan the cold shoulder, showing no visible reaction to his intentionally obnoxious whistling as he finished his preparations to go ashore. She failed to ignore his taunting wink from the doorway, however, and the sound of the key turning in the lock. She heard him instructing someone to stand guard outside her door, so even if she were able to pick the lock, she would still be unable to escape.

There had to be some way out! Day was turning to dusk as she paced restlessly, and the last rays of sunlight shining through the windows illuminated the room. She stopped, turning to look at the windows with a smile spreading across her face, as a plan formed in her mind.

Fifteen minutes later she was ready; her trunks were piled up underneath the window, she had taken off her shoes, quickly plaited her hair, and slipped a knife down into the front of her dress.

It dug into her uncomfortably now as she climbed on top of her trunks and pushed at the glass. The window creaked open and the warm sea breeze caressed her skin, and beckoned her towards freedom. Putting her hands on the ledge she hoisted herself up and through the open window, holding onto the railing of the sterncastle deck above her as she balanced herself on the pane and slowly turned herself around. Looking down, she swallowed. The water seemed so far away now that she was up here. But it was too late to turn back, and she would do whatever it took to get off this blasted ship.

Taking a deep breath, she jumped. She hit the water quietly with a small splash, but the unexpected weight of her dress pulled her down. Struggling to keep her head above the water she kicked her way towards the ship, where she was able to grab hold of the anchor line and catch her breath. Even now, her skirts twisted around her legs and hindered her mobility. Holding herself up with one hand, she reached into her bodice and pulled out the small knife, and tried to cut the laces in the back of her dress. Finding it difficult, she gave up and slid the blade into the front of her gown, and careful not to cut herself, slit it open from the waist up.

As she pulled herself from the tangle of fabric, the anchor line that had been keeping her afloat began to move, steadily creaking as the pirates on deck hauled it up. Her hand was raw from where the metal chain had been wrenched from her grasp, and she winced as she placed it in the salt water.

The fabric of her gown floated in a pile beside her as she trod water in her petticoats and chemise, remaining as much in the shadow of the large ship as possible. At the last moment she kicked off from the side and began swimming towards the shore, just as the heavy anchor rose out of the ocean, sending drops of water raining down on her back.

As she pulled herself through the water, she debated whether or not to approach any of the other ships that were anchored in the harbor. Passing under the shadow of one whose name read Scourge of the Caribbean, and a second called Satan’s Vengeance, she figured it was in her best interests to try her luck with the villagers.

The water was warm and Amber was a good swimmer, but when she finally reached the dock and began to climb the ladder, she was exhausted. Panting, she collapsed on the wooden planks and focused on catching her breath.

She didn’t hear the boy approaching until he cleared his throat, at which point she leapt to her feet and looked him over. He seemed about fifteen, tall and lanky with long blond hair pulled into a knot at the base of his neck. He was rocking back and forth with his hands in his pockets, but she hardly noticed, so excited was she that she found someone to help her.

“Can you please assist me? I’m looking for a ship that can take me to England, and I have to leave as soon as possible,” she asked the boy.

“How much?”

“Oh, well I don’t have any money with me, but I can assure you that whoever helps me will be handsomely rewarded.”

“How much?” he asked again.

Amber frowned. “You just asked me that, and I told you I didn’t have—” she stopped talking and followed his intense gaze to her body, where the thin fabric of her chemise lay plastered to her skin, embarrassingly transparent. His meaning dawned on her. “This isn’t what it…you must think…but I’m not a...” she stuttered, her face turning beet red. The boy shrugged and turned to walk away. “Wait, I still need your help!” He didn’t stop.

With a sigh she picked up her skirts and began running after him, but he disappeared behind a building before she could reach him. Standing at the center of a village square, she looked around her. To her left was a brothel, to her right was a tavern.

She headed towards the tavern just as a large woman walked out with two inebriated men. From the woman’s attire and the direction she was leading the men, Amber surmised she was a whore.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of someone who could help me find a ship to England?” The woman pushed past her with a hearty laugh that sent her large breasts heaving, dangerously close to escaping from the ill-fitting bodice of her worn dress. The men on her arms paid no attention to Amber at all.

Feeling a hand on her lower back, Amber spun around to find a tall, bald pirate leering at her. A crudely fit glass eye swiveled in its socket as he looked her up and down. “Hows about we go find a room and you can show me what’s under those pretty little skirts?”

She was losing her patience. Pulling herself from his grasp, she took a step backwards and planted her feet. “Unless you can help me find a ship, I suggest you find your pleasures elsewhere.”

“Oh goody, she plays hard to get. I love it when I get my money’s worth!” He lunged towards her and she fell backwards into a pair of strong arms.

“Oi, Jarret, leave ‘er alone, the miss said she don’t want nothin’ to do with ya, so shove off!” came an unfamiliar voice behind her.

“Yeah, get lost!” another man called as he stepped alongside her.

They waited until Jarret stormed off before turning to Amber. They were both young, maybe in their mid-twenties, and attractive enough. Or maybe it was because they were both smiling so cheerfully down at her.

“You all right there, miss?” asked the first as he released her from his grasp. He had light brown hair and a tattoo on his upper arm, while his friend was tall and dark.

“Yes, thank you.”

“We were just walking by on our way to our ship when we heard the commotion,” added the tan one. “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

“Not overly much, though I am thankful that you arrived when you did,” she said, then paused. “Did you just say you had a ship?”

The men looked at each other. “Aye, where is it that you be needing to go?”

“England, and as soon as possible.”

“Well then, miss…”

“Amber.”

“Miss Amber, it’s your lucky day! Because that’s exactly where our ship happens to be headin’.”

“Aye, we’ll be settin’ sail afore sunup tomorrow, but we can take you there now, if you’d like. We can also offer you some dry clothes and a meal.”

Amber let out a sigh of relief. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. Thank you both very much.”

“It’s our pleasure. My name is Lewis and this here is Ken,” said the tan one as he offered her his arm, which she took with a smile and allowed herself to be led down the dirt road.

She quickly explained to them her situation in full detail, incensed with fury as she got to the part about Logan locking her in his cabin. Amber thought she saw the Irish one smile, but she attributed it to exhaustion because when she blinked, he was somber. “I’m sorry to hear that, but don’t you worry, soon he won’t be able to get to you. You’re safe with us, you hear?”

They slowed their walk and as the streets got darker and more deserted, Amber realized with a sinking panic that they had headed in the opposite direction from the docks.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but isn’t your boat in the marina?”

“That’s where boats usually are,” replied Lewis as he tightened his grip on her arm.

“Then why are we going this way?”

“Because,” said Ken, “we don’t have a boat.” Amber gasped as he pulled a wicked looking blade from his waistband and held it up to her face, the moonlight reflecting off the jagged edges of the rusty metal.

Her eyes widened and she screamed, but was silenced as his dirty hand covered her mouth. She immediately bit down and was met with a satisfactory howl as he pulled away from her. Lewis raised his hand and slapped her square on the cheek, leaving her red-faced and seething with anger. “Oi, are you all right?” he asked his friend, who was glaring at Amber as he cradled his hand to his chest.

“The bitch broke the skin! I’m bleeding.” He raised his injured hand as evidence.

“Touch me again and you’ll get more than that,” she spat at them, but was silenced as another hand connected with her face.

“Bring ‘er in here,” Ken said, gesturing towards a darkened alley between two run-down buildings. Amber struggled to break free of the hands that dragged her from the street, but was no match for the taller, stronger man. Her face stinging, she was pushed up against a wall.

“Let’s see how feisty she is when we’re done with ‘er. Hold her down.” A pair of arms circled her chest, pining her arms to her side and rendering her incapable of moving her upper body.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she threatened, as Ken approached her with his knife extended, wearing a vicious sneer.

“Or what?” She didn’t answer, but instead struck out with her foot to kick him as hard as she could, not anticipating that he was waiting for her to lash out. With surprising quickness he grabbed her ankle before she made contact with his leg, then lowered the knife to her skirt. She closed her eyes, wincing as she heard the tearing of fabric and felt the warm breeze against her calves.

He tossed the cloth aside and approached her again, this time with the knife directed at her exposed throat. Instead of going for the skin, however, he slit the strap of her chemise and watched with a hungry grin as it fell forward to reveal the top part of her breast.

She whimpered, and the man who held her immobile laughed, his sticky breath washing over the side of her face. The knife was about to slice through the other strap when a voice rang out.

“Let her go. Now.” Amber jerked her head towards the noise, relief washing over her as she saw Logan approaching the Irishman, who at this point had turned from his captive towards the intruder.

“What if I don’t, eh? What are you gunna do about it then?”

Logan took another step forward and placed his hand on the hilt of his cutlass. “I’d have to kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try, old man,” he barked with an ugly laugh, preparing himself to fight.

“Fair enough,” Logan said with a shrug. Then he lashed out in a blur of movement that Amber’s untrained eyes had trouble discerning. What she saw next was Ken crumpled on the ground with a blade in his side, blood pooling around his motionless body. Amber fought back the bile that rose in her throat.

The man who was still holding her reached for his knife, but before he could pull it out, Logan had his pistol cocked and aimed. “Drop it.” The dagger fell to the ground. “Now let her go, and get the hell out of here. If I ever see you again you’ll wind up like your friend, you got that?” With a hasty nod, the man pushed Amber from his grasp and ran from the alley.

Caught off guard, her momentum carried her forward and before she knew it she was in Logan’s arms. She never imagined that she would find comfort in the embrace of a pirate, but as his hands began to stroke her back reassuringly, she felt her body begin to relax. Logan held her tight against him until he felt her shaking subside.

“Are you all right?” She responded with a small nod, one he felt rather than saw, as her head was pressed against his chest. “Are you sure?” She pulled back long enough to wipe a tear from her eye and give him a weak smile.

“No, but I’ll recover. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, what the hell are you doing here?” The smile left her face in response to the icy chill in his words, and she took a step backwards.

“I…I’m s-s-sorry, I was…” she faltered as his eyes turned a darker shade of grey and bore into hers. “I only thought—”

He cut her off. “No, you weren’t thinking. What other possible explanation can there be for your bloody naiveté?” He continued to walk towards her, each forward step of his met with a step backward from her. “Did you really expect that I wouldn’t notice you had left? And if I had, did you assume I would just let you go?”

Amber gasped as the back of her legs hit something, her face paling as she realized it was the body of her attacker. Still trying to put as much space between Logan and herself, she tried to step over the corpse, but slipped on the blood.

Logan’s hand was there around her waist to steady her, and as he pulled her to her feet, he saw the hurt in her eyes as she clutched her ripped chemise to her chest. With a sigh, he shrugged out of his jacket and wordlessly threw it over her shoulders, then ran his hand through his hair and moved to peer into the street.

“You’re bleeding again.”

“What?” He turned back to her, and then glanced quickly at his left arm, where the fabric of his shirt had been ripped and was now mottled with the crimson stain of his blood. “Oh, that. It’s nothing.” Even as he said it, however, it began throbbing. He held back a grimace.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” He held up a hand to silence her as a group of drunken sailors stumbled past the dark alley, beckoning her forward when their voices grew quiet again. Giving the dead body one last spiteful glance, she picked up her skirts and slid beside him.

“What are we doing?” she asked, but was met by silence. “Where are going?” she tried again.

Logan rolled his eyes and whispered back, “To the White Margate Inn. Come on.” After readjusting his cutlass and pistol in the leather baldric that he wore over his right shoulder, he stepped into the street. He glanced into the night, flinching when he felt a small hand slide into his. Looking down, he saw Amber giving him a weak smile that did little to hide her anxiety. The icy grip around his heart melted a bit and he tried to return her smile, giving her hand a quick squeeze before leading her in the direction of the marina.

His legs were longer than hers, and soon she felt herself struggling to keep up with his long strides while maintaining some semblance of modesty, by clutching what little clothing she had left on her shivering body. But she was determined not to complain or burden him further, and so she stayed silent and tried not to lag behind.

On they went, keeping to the shadows as much as possible and avoiding attention. The streets this far from the harbor were deserted except for the occasional prostitute or drunken sailor. The houses that lined the street were dark and dilapidated. Amber took them all to be empty until she saw the glow of a candle glittering behind the dirty glass of a window. The eyes of a small child stared back out at her, then retreated into the blackness. The light flickered out.

“Where is everyone?” she whispered to Logan as he stopped to peer around a corner.

He glanced back at her. “The few villagers that haven’t left the island remain inland during the night. Behind closed doors, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.”

“Well, why?”

“It’s not safe for them to wander the streets while the rogues roam about, looking for trouble.”

“Rogues roam, I like that. Are you a roaming rogue?”

He returned her smile. “The worst kind. Now hush, we’re approaching the harbor, and I want to get to the inn unscathed. So to speak,” he added, brushing his finger across the welt on her cheek. “Ready?”

Her face burned where his hand rested, though his touch was light. She swallowed heavily. “Yes.”

He untied a black scarf from around his waist. “Cover your hair,” he instructed, handing her the strip of cloth and waiting until she had tucked her braid into it and tied it around her head. “Keep your head down, don’t look at anyone, and stay by my side. If anyone talks to you, don’t respond.”

Amber crossed her arms over her chest and dropped her gaze to the ground, allowing herself to be steered by the gentle hand on her back. She could see the dark forms of men lining the street, emerging from taverns and brothels. Several called out to her, others shouted obscenities.

“Ignore them and keep walking,” Logan whispered as his arm wrapped around her more protectively. “It’s not much further,” he promised as he turned and led her down a side street. She said nothing, but breathed a sigh of relief that now there were fewer people loitering about. She was starting to believe that they would reach the inn safely, when Logan held up his hand for her to stop. She looked up at him in confusion, but he only stood there, listening.

She strained her ears for the source of his distraction, and finally made out the sound of two male voices coming from a shadowy house across the street. They appeared to be laughing, and Amber saw a large figure cross in front of the open window.

She stifled a gasp as Logan grabbed her and pulled her into a darkened doorway, then pressed her body against the frame. Curious to see who was coming out of the house, she attempted to see over his broad shoulders, but he effectively blocked her view and hid her from the men who now stood in the street, talking. Resigned, she turned her attention back to Logan, whose hard body was aligned with hers, his face only inches away. His eyes were focused on her, but she knew that he was listening to every word the men were saying.

Their conversation was banal, and coming to a close. The men were about to go their separate ways, when one of them spoke. “I forgot to tell you, Miguel, one of my men swears that he saw the Imperial Shadow today just outside of the harbor.” There was silence from Miguel, and the speaker let out a nervous laugh. “Of course, I told him he must be mistaken, for there is no way that el Tigre would dare show his ugly face on your island again after last time.” Amber’s pulse picked up upon hearing the name of Logan’s ship, and she had lifted her gaze from his chest to look at him. He remained stoic as usual, but his eyes had darkened considerably, the tight expression on his face evidence enough that he was listening as well, and was bothered by what he had heard.

“What man of yours saw the ship?” asked Miguel in a thick Spanish accent.

“Ignacio. He was repairing a tear in the topsail when he saw it in the distance. By the time he had gotten my attention, it had gone.”

“You will take me to this Ignacio. I will speak to him. And I will send my men out to look for el Tigre’s ship.”

“And if you find it?”

Miguel’s voice was cold when he spoke again. “Then I will make good on the promise I made to him when I gave him that scar on his back.”

Amber wasn’t sure what promise Miguel had made Logan, but she was confident that it wouldn’t fare well for either of them should the Spanish pirate stumble upon them. The footsteps were drawing closer now, and she turned to Logan again in uncertainty, hoping he had a good plan.

He responded by pressing his lips against hers.

Chapter Ten

Logan felt her gasp beneath his mouth, but he urgently pressed himself against her, relentless and ignoring the hands she balled up and used to push against his chest.

He hadn’t intended to kiss her. His initial reaction upon hearing Alonso Miguel’s voice had been to push Amber into an empty house and draw his sword, put an end to the confrontation that had begun between them years ago. The one that left Logan with a large scar across his left shoulder blade and Miguel with a bullet wound in his thigh. Logan wondered if the physicians had been able to remove the lead ball, or if it was still lodged in his leg, a painful reminder of the fight he had picked with the younger, fitter pirate.

But then Logan stopped to think about what would happen if Miguel somehow bested him this time around and then discovered Amber. As if a bucket of ice-water had been poured over his head, he was chilled by the images he conjured up of Amber being ravaged by the pirate, knowing full well that he would be less forgiving of her temper than the two boys he had stopped from hurting her earlier that evening. It was pure dumb luck that the now-deceased man and his friend had staged their attack right across the street from the dingy pub Logan had been in, and that he had heard her voice as he was exiting.

Though he didn’t consider himself a religious man, he had thanked whoever was watching over her that she was unhurt.

Back in the present, he wrapped an arm around her waist, his other hand cupping her chin and tilting her head to allow him easier access to her full lips. Her fists had unclenched, and her fingers were now splayed across his wide chest. Her mouth opened under the insistent pressure of his, and taking advantage of her lowered guard, he ran his tongue along the outside edge of her teeth and then slid it inside her mouth.

Her breath caught in her throat at the same moment the footsteps stopped right outside the doorway. Logan froze in panic, uttering a silent prayer that she wouldn’t slap him like the last time he had taken advantage of her when she wasn’t expecting it. Time seemed to stand still. Finally, and with obvious hesitation, her tongue touched his.

Her innocence created a fire within him, and he deepened the kiss to a new level of urgency, spurned on by the moan he heard her utter as he possessed her mouth. Her hands slid to his back, then his shoulders, and Logan closed the space between them further, crushing her against him almost painfully. She took no notice.

Nor did she take note of the voices of the men who watched them with amused interest. Logan heard them loud and clear, however, his heart pounding.

“I think after I take you to Ignacio, I’m going to empty my pockets and buy myself a wench.”

Miguel laughed, a harsh, biting sound. “Interested in a lush redhead?”

“Yes, though I’d rather just have that one, she looks like she’d be feisty in bed. I like a woman who knows what she’s doing.” Logan’s hand slid from Amber’s lower back to grip the hilt of his sword. She was thankfully oblivious, still caught up in the heat of his embrace.

Miguel slapped his companion on the shoulder. “Come, I know of a bordello on Shore Street. I will recommend to you my favorite women. I might even pay for you to use one for the entire night.” The men continued to discuss the merits of whorehouses until their voices faded into silence. Logan pulled away from Amber, who stared up at him in a daze.

“What was—” He cut her off by shaking his head and placing his hand over her mouth. His eyes bore into hers, then he removed his hand and stepped from the shadows to look down the street. Seeing no one, he returned to the alcove and found her pressing two fingers to her swollen lips thoughtfully.

“They’re gone,” he said. She looked up.

“Who were they?” Her voice was soft and hoarse, and Logan had the strongest urge to pull her back into his arms and kiss her senseless again. He restrained himself.

“I didn’t recognize the shorter one, but the tall one with the accent was Alonso Miguel.” He checked to make sure his pistol was loaded–he didn’t dare risk a run-in with the Spaniard unarmed–and led her back into the street, setting a steady pace in the direction of the inn.

“Is he another pirate?”

“Yes, one famous for being cruel and relentless.” He stopped then, giving her the sign to be silent and nudging her into another darkened alley. She watched as he entered the open door of a well-lit house, and through the window she could see him talking to a young boy. The boy listened to Logan and nodded, before accepting some coins. He then left the house and sprinted down the street in the opposite direction of where they were headed.

She waited until Logan came to get her. Anticipating the question that was poised on the tip of her tongue, he said,  “I gave the boy some gold to follow Miguel, then report back to me at the inn.” She nodded and chewed on her lip, distracted. “Is everything all right?” he asked, lowering his head as they passed a group of sailors.

“What? Oh, yes. Everything is fine. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Why did you kiss me?” His step faltered, and he glanced down at her face. The damn woman always knew how to catch him off guard. He waited until they arrived at the inn, then stopped her just outside the doorway.

“Because I didn’t know what else to do. I reacted without thinking.” She nodded absently again. “Amber, look at me.” She did, and he cupped her chin in his hand. “I’m sorry if I surprised you. I couldn’t let them see my face, but even more than that I was trying to protect you. If they had gotten a good look at you, there’s no doubt in my mind that they would have murdered me just to get to you.” He smiled as his gaze raked her body. “Though I can hardly blame them. I had been wanting to kiss you since I first saw you tonight, wearing next to nothing.”

Her face flushed and she raised a hand to strike him, but as always, he caught it before she could make contact with his face. He grabbed her other hand and backed her against the side of the house, raising her arms above her head and trapping her. “Besides,” he said gruffly, “I’m pretty sure you enjoyed it.”

She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he dropped her hands and stepped inside the inn without giving her the chance to. She forced herself to breathe, but the exercise did little to calm her nerves. With an exasperated sigh she followed him, jumping back as the orange blur of a cat rushed in front of her feet.

The White Margate Inn was small and crowded, but to her the group of people who sat around the tables and filled the air with their loud voices seemed considerably less threatening then many of the other men she had run into that night. She noticed scattered throughout the room in varying states of disguise were crewmembers from the Imperial Shadow. Logan was leaning against the bar, deep in conversation with a man who Amber assumed was the innkeeper. They glanced over at her, then Logan said something that made the other man laugh.

Amber rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed; a defensive stance that she hoped would send a message to everyone that she was in no mood to be approached. It appeared to work, for the only person who came near her was Logan. The tricorne hat still sat low on his forehead, but a lock of hair had fallen into his face and now obstructed his gaze as he studied her. She raised an eyebrow in response to his scrutiny. “I assume that you were able to procure us rooms?”

“Room. Singular.” Something flashed in her green eyes, and he was uncertain if it was anger or surprise, or, he secretly hoped (and berated himself for), lust.

“I hope you don’t expect me to sleep with you, simply because of what happened earlier.”

The little bit of hope in him died, and he instead sent her a demeaning smile. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. They only had one available room, the one I requested hours ago when I came ashore. And since you were supposed to be safe on the ship right now,” she flushed, “you understand why I didn’t request two rooms.”

“None of this would have been a problem if you hadn’t captured my ship in the first place,” she grumbled as she brushed by him.

He caught her hand as she passed. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” she answered in a deceptively sweet tone. He was not fooled.

They followed the innkeeper up the stairs and down a narrow hallway to a door marked 14A. Pulling a key ring from his pocket, he flipped through it until he had selected the correct one, and then used it to unlock the door. He ushered Logan and Amber inside, who were quickly followed by a girl carrying towels whom he introduced as his daughter, Annie. A scowling young woman with mousy brown hair, Annie went about the room placing towels and filling up the washbasin with water from a tarnished pitcher that stood on the dresser. The innkeeper removed the key from the ring and handed it to Logan, assured him that if he needed anything else he could ask Annie, and excused himself.

Amber studied the room. It was of medium size, and furnished with simple, yet sturdy, furniture. In the center of the room stood a large bed, covered with clean blankets and sheets. Glowering, the innkeeper’s daughter pulled an extra blanket from the trunk at the foot of the bed, then threw it over the wooden footboard and turned to leave. Logan’s voice stopped her.

“Annie, if you would please, there is a large sack behind the bar downstairs. I’d like you to send that up, along with some clean clothes for my wife, and a hot bath. And if you could bring her some dinner when she is done, I would appreciate it.”

Logan’s kindness was wasted on the girl. She glared at him, and planted a hand on her hip. “I’m sorry sir,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “we don’t do no catering to men and their wives. I think you got us all mixed up with a fancy hotel. If you’ll excuse me…” she spun on her heel.

“Wait.”

Pivoting back around she sent him a sour look. “What now?”

“I’ll pay you.”

Her eyebrows rose a quarter of an inch. “How much?”

“Thirty.”

“Won’t do it for no less than thirty-five.”

“Drop the attitude and I’ll make it fifty.”

“Deal.” She snatched the coins from him and bit into one before tucking them into her apron pocket, then sent them a crude excuse for a curtsy. “I’ll be right back up with your things, sir. Ma’am,” she added, turning to Amber, who held back her laugh until the girl had left the room.

Logan’s mouth twitched at the corners. “What’s so funny?”

“You really do have a way with women, don’t you?” He grinned and tossed his hat onto the bed, then ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Too bad you can’t pay me to drop my attitude. Though, even if you could, I doubt you’d have enough money to keep me quiet for two whole months,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed and watched him take off his baldric.

“I promise you I have the money, but I wouldn’t dream of asking you to change,” he responded as he laid the belt on the empty space next to her.

“Why’s that?”

He turned to her and planted a light kiss on her lips. “Because I happen to like your attitude problem. It’s endearing.” She stared at him. More impressive than his coercive ways with the female sex, she had to admit to herself, was his uncanny ability to render her speechless.

She was saved from thinking of a suitable reply as a knock sounded, and Annie came in carrying what appeared to be a large blanket tied with rope. She deposited it on the bed where he directed, and left with a promise to return with the bathwater and clothes.

As soon as they were alone again, Logan grabbed a knife from his belt and went to work on the ties holding the blanket together. Once severed, he tossed them aside and unrolled the cloth, revealing to Amber a set of dangerous looking knives in varying sizes, four axe-blades that he slid onto the lengths of four wooden handles, and six pistols, as well as a larger, more menacing looking gun that Amber couldn’t name. Along with the arsenal of weapons there was a long leather belt, fitted with loops to hang daggers and pistols.

“What are you intending to do with all of those?” she asked, finding her voice again.

“I’m going to go find that bastard Miguel’s ship before he finds mine.” He spread everything out on the bed and began loading the pistols with shot.

“What if he’s already found it?”

Logan smiled. “Did you think I would harbor her in the marina? I left just enough men on board to sail her, gave them orders to wait an hour after I had left, and then take her to the other side of the island. I assume that you snuck out moments before she set off.” Amber winced, remembering the anchor chafing her skin.”How did you escape, by the way?”

“The windows.”

He stopped what he was doing and stared at her for a moment, then began laughing. “I should have known you’d do something crazy like jump out the window.”

She picked up one of the knives and examined it with mild interest. “What are you planning on doing if you find his ship?”

“When I find his ship,” he corrected her, “and I should think the answer to your question would be fairly obvious.” Looking at the artillery before her, she would have to agree. They heard a light tapping at the door, and Logan jumped up to open it. There was a quick conversation that she ignored, choosing instead to inspect one of the pistols. Curling her fingers around the butt of the gun, she lifted it so that it was level with her gaze and ran her hand over it lightly, tracing a finger through the elegant carving in the polished ivory. She switched it so it was in her right hand, cocked it as she had seen him do, and extended it, getting a feel for it and trying to imagine if she could actually fire it successfully.

“Careful,” Logan’s voice broke her concentration. “She’s got a light trigger, and I wouldn’t want you to blow a hole in my head by accident. Now here, help me with this,” he said, gesturing towards the belt. He instructed her how to wrap it around him so that it crossed against his abdomen, creating a large “X” on his chest, then enlisted her help in loading it. The larger gun, which he explained was called a blunderbuss, was tucked in a loop so that it lay flush against his back, easily accessible for him to reach behind him and pull it out.

As if this weren’t enough, he tied his regular baldric around his waist after checking the pistols and cleaning the cutlass. Amber turned her head as he drew the long blade from the sheath, the sight of blood splattered on the shining silver too much for her to stomach. It took him only a minute to wipe it clean with a wet towel from the dresser, and then the belt was on. At last, he tucked the last remaining dagger into his tall boot and pulled on a dark blue jacket that effectively hid the ridiculous number of weapons he wore strapped to his body. The four axes were wrapped back into the blanket.

There was another knock, and Logan opened the door to let in two men carrying a large tub. They set it in the corner just as Annie entered, a large bucket of steaming water in her hands. She emptied it into the tub, then returned into the hall for another bucket, the men following behind her.

Logan tied his hair back and tugged his hat back onto his head. Amber was humiliated that she couldn’t shake the nagging sense of worry that overtook her. “Will you be back?”

If he noticed the slight tremor in her voice, he didn’t say anything. He smiled. “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.” A man appeared in the doorway, and Logan’s smile slid from his face. He turned to her again with a serious expression. “And Amber, in case you were thinking about another escape attempt, know that I don’t make the same mistake twice. David here is going to sit outside your door until I get back, and Creed is stationed underneath your window.” Annie looked up with curiosity as she emptied the last bucket of water into the tub, but stayed silent.

Amber’s anger again flared. She stood and thrust the bundle into his arms without a word and turned her attention towards the bath. Logan watched for a minute, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Amber sat at the edge of the tub, lost in thought until Annie spoke, making her jump. “He’s a handsome one, he is. Are you really married to him?”

“Yes,” Amber replied without thinking.

The lanky girl’s face fell. “Damn, I was hoping that he was lying earlier when he said you was his wife. No offense. I just wouldn’t mind liftin’ up my skirts for the likes of him,” she said, offering Amber a towel.

Taking it from her, Amber waited until she had turned around to strip off her chemise and petticoats, and lower herself into the warm water. “How old are you, Annie?” she asked, as she reached for the soap and began scrubbing her scalp with vigor.

“I’ll be eighteen next July,” the girl replied with a hint of pride in her voice.

“You’re only seventeen, and already you’re…”

Annie shrugged as she walked across the room where she had left a pile of folded clothes. “Nothing wrong with a roll in the hay, from time to time.” She set the clothes on the stool next to the tub, where Amber had begun rinsing her hair. “Want me to do that, miss?”

“No thank you,” Amber replied awkwardly, and Annie plopped down on the bed.

“Suit yourself. If you’re just about done, I’ll go ahead and leave these clothes here. I woulda given you one of my dresses, but on account of you’ve got more curves than me, I didn’t think they’d fit. So I found you some breeches that a man left here last week after his wife barged in on him in bed with some wench. She darn near dragged him out of here half-naked, hollerin’ all the way. I don’t know what all the fuss was about; from what I saw of him he weren’t nothing too impressive, if you know what I mean.”

Amber blushed, and nodded. “Yes, I know what you mean. I’m finished here now.”

Annie jumped to her feet. “I’ll go get you that food now, Miss.”

She returned five minutes later with a tray of stale bread, a bowl of stew, and a piece of shepherd’s pie. Amber turned from the mirror where she had been trying to brush out her curls, her mouth watering at the aroma that wafted towards her. “I knew those pants would fit you,” Annie exclaimed triumphantly as she set down the tray. Amber looked down at the breeches that hugged her hips and thighs, accentuating every one of her curves. If it were up to her, she would have chosen a larger pair. But the simple white shirt she wore hung loosely on her torso like a potato sack, and it covered her so that she didn’t feel quite so exposed.

She sat down and reached for the glass decanter, lifted it to her nose and inhaled. “Is this rum?” Annie nodded. “Do you have anything else?”

She shook her head. “All we’ve got is rum and whisky.”

“No water? Milk?”

“Why would you waste your time on milk or water? This here is the best rum on the whole island. Trust me.” Amber didn’t doubt for one minute that the girl had sampled all the liqueur on the island and was capable of making an educated decision regarding quality. So she thanked her, and dismissed her. Annie gave her another curtsy. “I think I’d make a damn near perfect lady’s maid, don’t you?” Amber nearly choked on her bread, but reassured her that her skills were unparalleled and would be hard to match. The other girl beamed and left her to finish the meal.

Amber was thirsty, but hesitant to drink the rum. Eyeing it with caution, she finally poured herself a glass. Her first tentative sip sent her into a fit of coughing as the dark liquid burned a path down the back of her throat. As she finished her first glass, however, she seemed to have acquired a taste for the drink, and for the way it made her thoughts fuzzy.

And so she finished the decanter.

Chapter Eleven

“New friend?” Logan’s voice came from the now open doorway, drawing Amber’s gaze up from the orange-striped tabby who lay stretched across the bed, purring languidly as she stroked him. The cat took little note of Logan, casting his brilliant yellow eyes in his direction before returning his attention to Amber.

She continued petting the cat as Logan dismissed David from his post and closed the door. They were alone in the room now.

Amber cradled the cat against her breast and pulled herself off the bed. “He was wandering the streets and thought Creed’s leg would be a good place to sharpen his claws. Luckily Creed took pity on the poor creature, and, since misery loves company, passed him off to me.”

“Neither of you seem all that miserable at the moment.”

“True,” she remarked, nuzzling her nose against her furry companion’s head. “I had my dinner and a bath, and Tybalt had a saucer of milk.” The cat purred in response as Logan smirked.

“Tybalt?”

“It’s from Romeo and Juliet, he was the Prince of Cats.”

“I know what it’s from, sweetheart. I just find it…amusing.” He paused to throw his hat onto a chair, and then attempted to hold back a grimace as he began to pull off his jacket. But Amber noticed his discomfort at once and rushed to his side, Tybalt carelessly dropped to the floor. He sauntered over to the corner of the room where he curled up and fell asleep, tail twitching.

Logan held up a hand to stop Amber before she could get too close. “I’m fine, really.” To prove it, he slid an arm through the sleeve, swearing under his breath as it got stuck.

“Obviously you’re not,” she told him, and she pushed him backwards until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Why are you always getting injured?”

He grinned. “It’s not exactly a safe job.”

She freed his arm from the sleeve, and noticed the large splinter of wood sticking out from his shoulder. “What the hell happened to you tonight?” she demanded as she began working on his other sleeve.

“We followed Miguel to a brothel, and after speaking to a woman who knew where they had anchored for the night, we rowed out to his ship.” He winced as she removed the jacket and stared at the other shards of wood embedded in his skin. She shook her head and started stripping him of his weapons. “We took them by surprise when we boarded her, and easily won the battle. Then we lay a fuse to blow the stores of powder once we were a safe distance from the ship.”

“Like you did to the other ship.”

“Yes, except—ow!”

“Sorry. Please continue.”

“Except something went wrong this time. We laid the fuse, got in our boat, and we were rowing away when she exploded. One of Miguel’s men must have lit it. These,” he said, nodding his head at the splinters, “are a result of that.”

“Did your men get hit too?”

“Bits and pieces, here and there, but since I pushed them into the water before the fire reached the second reserve of powder, I took the brunt of it. What are you doing?”

“Cutting off your shirt. How else do you expect me to take care of you?” She slid the knife through the fabric with care, trying not to pull at the slivers. Finally his upper body was bare.

Logan grew apprehensive. “You aren’t going to pour rum into my cuts again, are you?” He was surprised to hear her laugh, and even more surprised to find how much it warmed him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, no. But even if I was, I’m afraid there isn’t any left.”

He stared into her face as she nursed his shoulder, noticing for the first time her flushed cheeks and easy smile. “Good god Amber, you’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“What a preposterous presumption,” she giggled. “Now sit still while I pull this out,” Gritting his teeth, he complied until every last splinter had been removed. She leaned back to admire her handiwork, then stood and walked over to the washbasin.

“Amber?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me the truth. Are you, or are you not intoxicated?”

“Does it matter?”

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I’d say it’s pretty damn important, seeing as how you were just extracting the hull of a ship from my body.”

“Oh, stop exaggerating, it was just a few splinters. Now don’t move.” His head shot up as he felt warm water trickle down his chest.

“What are you doing now?”

“Cleaning your cuts,” she replied, concentrating on the task. Logan watched her as she ran the cloth over his shoulders, his broad chest, his firm stomach.

He closed his eyes and relaxed under her careful ministrations, her touch both soothing and intensely arousing. The tension in his muscles dissipated as she washed away the dirt, sweat, and blood that covered his skin. He didn’t notice as her hand slowed, or even when it stopped. When it dropped to her side, however, he inexplicably mourned the loss of her touch.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gruffer than he had intended.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just…curious,” she mused.

“Curious about what?”

She leaned forward and caught him off guard by brushing her mouth against his. Then just as quickly she pulled away. Logan stared at her in shock.

“Nothing…” she murmured to herself, her brows drawn together in deliberation.

“What the hell do you mean, nothing?”

She looked up, startled. “I mean that I felt nothing like I did when you kissed me outside.”

He was taken by surprise, and his voice lost its angry edge as he spoke again. “What did you feel, Amber?”

She blushed. “I felt warm, and protected. Safe. And at the same time I felt like I was in danger of something, I don’t know what. But…”

“What else?” he urged.

“I think,” she said, taking a deep breath and meeting his stormy gaze, “that whatever it was, I wanted it to happen.” He watched her for a long moment, his intense gaze unsettling.

She attempted a casual shrug. “It’s not important anyway. It didn’t happen again, and it most likely never will.” She started to turn away, but Logan reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back so that she stood between his legs, their faces almost level.

“The hell it won’t,” he growled, his eyes intense and bright, “you’re just doing it wrong.” Then he slid his arm around her neck and drew her against him, his lips crushing hers.

Amber steadied herself by grabbing his shoulders, her squeak of protest barely heard as he cupped her chin and continued his assault on her senses.

He tried to deepen the kiss, but her mouth was closed beneath his, so he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to shock her. Her gasp of surprise was more than enough, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue between her parted lips.

Unlike last time, her tongue darted forward to intertwine with his almost instantly, any ounce of hesitation she may have felt gone. It had disappeared the moment he slid an arm around her waist and clutched her to him. He explored her mouth with finesse, Amber meeting each kiss with ardor and taking advantage of the situation to learn and explore his body.

Her fingertips roamed over the wide expanse of bare chest, tangled in the dark coarse hair, reveled in the feel of his rippling muscles. Suddenly he pulled back, leaving her gasping and at a loss for why their kiss had ended with such abruptness.

“Take down your hair,” he commanded in a coarse whisper. Without answering, she nodded and pulled the ribbon from the bottom of her braid, then loosened her curls until they hung free about her back. Logan lifted a lock and felt the weight of it, and letting the silky strand fall through his fingers he drew her in for another kiss that left her breathless.

His lips traveled from her mouth to her neck, her head falling back to allow him easier access to her soft skin. His fingers plunged into her hair and he kissed a trail to her ear.

“Do you feel it now, Amber?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice husky with desire.

“What do you feel?”

She struggled to turn her muddled thoughts into a coherent sentence. “Warm. Hot, like I’m on fire. I want…I want you to touch me.”

Logan stood with a crooked smile and pushed Amber back onto the bed, where she lifted herself onto her elbows and watched as he removed his boots and tossed them aside. Then he joined her, sliding his body up so that it lay alongside hers.

She tilted her head so that he could kiss her again, his skilled fingers drawing lazy circles on her overheated skin. She shivered, and he brought his hand to the gentle curve of her hip, then drew it across her stomach.

Her body twitched under him, and she broke the kiss. “More,” she gasped, her eyes closed. Logan slipped his hand beneath the large white shirt, brushing his fingers over her soft stomach while he watched her face. She bit her lip and moaned, the sound reverberating through Logan’s defense. “So hot…”

His self-restraint crumbled, and he gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head, ripping it in the process, then threw it onto the floor.

Amber’s eyes shot open as cool air breezed across her chest. Logan was leaning over her, his breath caught in his throat as he stared at full breasts, the dusky rose centers that budded under his heated gaze.

She squirmed again. “Logan, please!”

And then he was cupping her breast, and all thoughts vanished as her back arched off the bed, pushing herself up into his large hand.

Logan fought off the simultaneous urge to groan and smile at her impassioned reaction, but instead lowered his mouth to her neck again. Her hands tangled in the quilt, her toes curling as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, causing the fire to spread further through her body. She was lost in a sea of desire, drowning.

Suddenly, Logan’s mouth was on her breast, and she gasped with need as heat pulsed between her thighs, liquid warmth seeping from her very core. His tongue laved her smooth skin with finesse even as he rested a hand on her stomach to keep her body from thrashing.

It was too much for her to handle. “Logan, I need…oh god…” Her voice trailed off in a whimper as she gasped for breath. For control. For release.

“Shh, love. I know what you need,” he whispered as his hand strayed to the tight breeches that had caught his attention and stirred something primal within him earlier that night, the same need that coursed through him now, making his own breeches damned uncomfortable. He tried to ignore the erection that throbbed against the coarse fabric of his pants, a feat that was near impossible as he slid hers off.

Again, he was struck by her intense beauty. Her legs, which until now had always been hidden beneath layers of skirts, were shapely and smooth, the creamy skin glowing under the flickering candlelight. His grey eyes clouded with desire as his gaze was drawn upwards to the red triangle of curls that nestled at the apex of her legs. His hands expertly massaged her thighs until they fell apart, allowing his fingers to roam further.

Amber’s body went rigid as she felt him part the folds of her sex and brush across her damp opening. He waited what seemed like hours until she relaxed and her muscles lost their tension before he moved his thumb to circle her sensitive bud, an action that caused her to suck in a breath. “Logan?”

He lifted his head and met her eyes, thrilled to see pure, sensual energy shining in them. “Make love to me, please?” His hand stalled.

She whimpered, never tearing her gaze from his. “Please Logan, I need…”

“I know, sweetheart.” His thumb began teasing her again. She tried to push his hand away, but he resisted. She tried to pull him towards her, but he wouldn’t budge.

After that, she was lost to the intense pleasure-pain that he was causing, her hips bucking upwards in sweet agony, aching for something, anything. And then he was inside of her.

Through glassy eyes, she saw that he hadn’t actually penetrated her. He hadn’t moved from his position lying beside her, and his breeches were still in place, however straining at the front. It was his fingers, then, that were causing her to moan and tremble.

Then he slid another finger inside her slick heat, and Amber cried out in helpless abandon as her body shook, the fire that had spread through her veins igniting in a scorching inferno and blinding her momentarily as Logan’s name tumbled from her swollen lips.

Logan eased his fingers from her even as she fell back against the pillows, her breathing heavy and uneven. She forced her eyes open and stared at him, suddenly embarrassed and demure. “What…” she stopped as he gave her a smile and pulled the blanket from under her, then covered her with it.

“Get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”

She shook her head and tried to fight off the drowsiness that swept over her. He stood and removed his belt, then slipped beneath the blankets and pulled her against him. The last thing she remembered was his soothing hands stroking her back, and then she surrendered to the blessed darkness that overwhelmed her.

Logan’s body ached as Amber slept soundly beside him, unaware of his inner turmoil. He groaned and rolled onto his back, throwing an arm across his eyes. When she had looked up at him, and asked him, no, begged him to take her, it had taken every ounce of self-control he had to resist. Even now, the temptation roared within him, his erection surging to life and straining uncomfortably at its confines.

Amber stirred, then turned in her sleep to snuggle up against him. He gritted his teeth and prepared himself for a restless night.

Chapter Twelve

The following morning, Amber was pulled from her somnolent state by a persistent feeling that something was amiss. She was woozy as she blinked against the harsh daylight, wishing she could return to the pleasant dream she had been having before she woke up. Her eyelids drooped as she began to slip back into sleep, the gentle sway of the ship rocking her like a baby in a cradle.

A nagging thought kept pushing against her subconscious: what ship? Her brain won the battle with her body and she sat up with a start, immediately regretting the swift movement as her vision began swimming.

She fell back against the pillows of what she now knew was Logan’s bed onboard the Imperial Shadow, groaning as she clutched her throbbing head. The after-effects of the alcohol did nothing to buffer her against the onslaught of memories that rushed back to her from the previous night; her failed escape attempt, the attack, Logan’s rescue, the kiss, her foolish inhibition.

A pink flush crept up her cheeks as she recalled in vivid detail what had occurred after Logan returned from his raid. She was humiliated. How could she have thrown herself at him in such a wanton manner? And then she remembered the heat she had felt, the burning desire that had her writhing under him, her body aching for the release it instinctively knew must follow such searing passion.

And how he had turned her down. Though she supposed she should probably thank him for not taking advantage of her, the defiant part of her brain still contended that he had taken advantage of her by leading her on and then denying her the thing she wanted the most: himself.

She threw back the covers and saw, to her horror, that she was wearing a thin cotton nightgown that she had packed at the bottom of one of her trunks. This meant that Logan had rifled through her clothes and dressed her upon their arrival back on the ship. She groaned. Had he carried her naked through the streets of Tortuga? She looked around and saw no evidence of the clothes she had been wearing the previous night, the ones she had been all to eager to rid herself of after a single kiss.

Amber realized that her fists were clenched so tightly that her fingers had gone white. She released them and waited for feeling to return, fury simmering inside her. Well, she wasn’t the type to just give up when she faced an obstacle, and this time would be no different. A plan still hatching in her mind, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, then forced back the urge to vomit and stumbled across the room to the door.

Logan was sitting at the table in the galley, nursing a cup of coffee and a frown when Eli found him.

“I take it she’s still asleep?”

“How’d you guess?”

Eli plopped himself down on a barrel and stole a sip of Logan’s coffee. “Because if she was awake she would have torn you apart by now and scattered your remains all over the deck. And I’d have to clean you up.”

The brooding pirate glared at him. “Don’t you have anywhere else you could be?”

“No I don’t. As acting best friend, I’m required to be there at all times to make you regret any stupid decisions made on your part. Check the pirate code, it’s in there after the bit about getting four hundred pieces of eight if you get your right leg chopped off.”

“It’s five hundred for your right leg, four hundred for your left.”

“Details. But regardless, my point has nothing to do with the amount of money you receive for losing your big toe or your pinky finger—”

“You get one hundred for each finger, and as far as I know, nothing for a toe.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Are you just trying to keep me off topic?”

“Yes.”

“Well, congratulations. Now I’m preoccupied, wondering why the hell a poor bloke who loses his toe is any less important than the guy without a little finger.”

Abe limped into the galley, dragging a sack of sweet potatoes behind him. “I’ve always wondered why we even have toes in the first place. I mean, what do they even do?”

“They help with balance,” Logan said as he stood to help Abe lift the sack onto the table. “And someone should be helping you. Where did Henry and Johnny get off to?”

“Oh, they were more of a hindrance than a help, what with the weather being so nice outside, so I sent them to play. And I can manage just fine, so don’t you worry about me. I think you should focus on what you’re aiming to do about that girl you left passed out in your bed, wearing naught but a blanket wrapped ‘round her!”

Logan groaned. “She’s not wearing the damn blanket anymore. I had the decency to put some clothes on her.”

“Is it decency when you were the one to rid her of her clothes in the first place?” Eli pondered as he dipped a finger into Abe’s mixing bowl, snatching it back before he got swatted with a spoon.

“Wonderful, Eli, why don’t you tell everyone the sordid details of my private life?”

“Begging your pardon, Cap’n, but it’s not so private when you carry her back on board in the wee hours of the morning, unconscious and naked as the day she was born.”

Eli winked at the cook. “Well said, Abe!”

Logan sighed. “With any luck she won’t even remember what happened last night.”

Eli studied his face. “What actually did happen last night, Logan? I tend to stay out of your affairs,” Logan snorted at this, which Eli chose to ignore, “but I’ve grown pretty fond of Amber, and if you did something to hurt her…”

“ Are we talking about how Logan bedded Miss Amber last night?” asked Pax with a smirk as he strolled into the room, Deacon at his heels.

“I didn’t bed anyone, damn it!” Logan fumed.

“I told him to stay out of your business, Captain,” defended Deacon, with a pointed look at the freckled teenager. “He just doesn’t listen to reason. I says to him it’s not his place to be asking questions about Amber’s deflowering—”

Logan’s chair toppled over as he leapt to his feet. “For the last time! I did not deflower, defile or compromise Amber last night!”

“Relax, Logan. We only thought—”

“I know what you thought, Eli, and I won’t lie and say it hasn’t been haunting my every thought since it bloody happened.” As soon as the words came out he wished he could take them back.

A puzzled look came across Eli’s face. “But why should you worry? You just said that nothing happened! If she’s still innocent…” He saw Logan’s eyes darken, and he sighed. “Oh Logan, you didn’t.”

“You devil!” Pax exclaimed with a giant grin, which was wiped from his face as Deacon hit him on the side of the head. Abe concentrated on mixing the contents of his bowl, and avoided eye contact with everyone in the room.

“Shit, Logan!” Eli groaned, rubbing a hand across his face. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean, what’s he gunna do? He doesn’t have to do anything!” interjected Pax. “Except maybe finish the job, if you know what I…All right, all right! You don’t have to glare, Cap’n. I get the picture, I’m leaving.” He was about to exit the room when Johnny brushed by him, looking anxious and scared. Pax smiled and leaned against the wall to watch. “This ought to be entertaining.”

Logan scowled. “If you don’t get out of my sight, you’ll be scrubbing the deck for the next two weeks. Got that?”

“But, I—”

“By yourself.”

“But I just—”

“With the smallest brush I can find.”

Eli cracked a smile as Pax stormed from the room muttering angrily to himself, Deacon shaking his head as he followed him. Logan turned to Johnny, who during the argument had attempted to make himself as invisible as possible by pressing up against the wall. “What is it?”

“It’s Amber, Cap’n. You said you wanted to know when she woke up.”

“You look like you’ve seen the ghost of Davy Jones, boy. Come and have a cup of coffee to settle your nerves,” Abe said, pouring the boy a mug.

Logan stood to give the boy his seat at the table. “What’s gotten you so shaken?”

“It was Amber, Cap’n.”

“Did she yell at you?” Eli asked, thinking back to her previous heated arguments.

“That’s the strange thing. She didn’t scream, or yell, or hit me or anything.”

Eli glanced over at Logan. “I don’t know how, but it sounds like you lucked out. If she remembered what happened last night she’d be furious.”

“Oh, she’s mad all right. You’d know it if you saw her. I could tell she was trying real hard not to raise her voice, and her eyes…” the usually stoic boy shuddered. “She reminded me of a wolf about to slaughter a wounded rabbit, she looked so mean.”

“Great,” murmured Logan with a sigh. “What did she say to you?”

“She said she wanted her clothes from last night.”

“Tell her that losing her dress was her own fault, and that there was no hope of saving her shift, so I just left it at the inn.”

“She told me you’d say that,” replied Johnny with unease, “and she told me to tell you she didn’t mean those clothes. She meant the ones she received from the innkeeper’s daughter, the ones…” he dropped his gaze to his feet, “she said the ones you stole from her last night.” There was a moment of strained silence.

“I wonder what she wants those dingy pants for,” mused Abe.

“She’s just being defiant,” replied Logan. “But in any case, what did you do with them, Eli?”

“I just tossed them in the hold. I didn’t know what else to do with them, but I figured we might as well keep them in case we make a habit of abducting females, or if Johnny suddenly decided to sprout hips.”

The young boy looked petrified at the prospect that he might one day be as curvy as the beautiful redhead. “You don’t think it’s contagious, do you?”

“I’m fairly certain you’re safe,” Eli reassured him with a chuckle.

“Still, if it’s the same to you Cap’n, I’d rather not go back in there just yet.”

Logan stood. “Don’t worry, Johnny. I was planning on bringing her the clothes myself.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed. “Keeping an eye on her, Logan?”

“Something like that,” he said as he swept his hat off the table and left.

Sitting at the wooden table, Amber squinted against the harsh sunlight streaming into the cabin, which seemed brighter than any other morning. That and her throbbing head did nothing to help her foul mood. So when she heard the door open behind her, she simply lifted a hand, directing Johnny to drop the clothes on the bed and leave. She was not prepared for the voice that pushed its way through the fog of her mind.

“How’s your head feeling?”

Closing her eyes against the intruding sound, which echoed loudly through her skull, she sighed. “I feel great, thanks for asking. Now leave.”

And then he was in front of her, or at least she thought the blurry vision that kept going in and out of focus resembled Logan. He was carrying a pitcher of water and a mug, and went through the motions of pouring her some. He slid it in front of her, but she turned away.

“You should drink it, it will help.” She didn’t respond, and he tried again. “You have what’s called a hangover, Amber.”

She jumped to her feet. “Good lord, Logan, I’m not a complete imbecile!” She caught hold of the edge of the table for support as she turned on him. “I know what a hangover is, believe it or not. I also know how to read, write, do arithmetic, and oh, I even know where babies come from!”

“While we’re on the subject—”

“No. Absolutely not. The subject is closed, off-limits forever. What happened was a mistake…now stop moving around so much, I can’t focus on you!”

He grabbed her arm to keep her steady. “Amber, I’m not moving. And we need to talk about what happened last night.”

“Nothing happened,” she said defensively as she pulled her arm from his grasp, stumbling in the process.

His eyes narrowed. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“I know no such thing. Now leave.”

“Not until you stop pretending that you weren’t affected by our actions. Something happened; you must have felt it too.”

“I felt nothing for you. I feel nothing for you. Now go away!” She planted a palm against his chest and shoved, but only succeeded in pushing herself backwards, tripping over a chair and catching herself at the last moment. With her last remaining shred of dignity she flipped her hair over her shoulder and stalked past the fuming pirate, who watched her through stormy eyes. She approached the pile of clothes on the bed, picking up the shirt and holding it against her body. “This isn’t the shirt I had last night.”

“That one got ripped, remember?” he asked, pleased to see a flush cover her pale face. “So it did affect you, didn’t it?” She turned and faced the bed, clutching the shirt between her hands like a lifeline. He approached her. “Now, I’m curious sweetheart, are you upset about what happened, or about what didn’t happen?”  He felt the pain before he realized that she had stomped down on his foot.

Chiding himself for taunting her, he limped across the room and settled down into one of the chairs. Her hand moved to the hem of her nightdress, and then she looked over her shoulder at him. “Do you mind?”

“Actually, yes.” He turned though, allowing her a tiny bit of privacy. “Why are you doing this, anyway?”

“Doing what? Refusing to let myself be a burden to anyone?”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, you’re a man. You’re the source of the problem.”

“I take offense at that,” he said, sparing a glance in her direction and wishing he hadn’t as soon as he saw the bare expanse of her back.

She ignored his comment and slipped the shirt on. “The moment I set foot on the Queen Charlotte, the crew made it a point to ignore me, or treat me as if I was a fragile glass figurine. Either way, the message was clear: women do not belong on ships.” He made to speak, but she cut him off. “Don’t try to deny it, Logan. Your men were hardly any better; I saw the looks you received when you told them I was to be abducted as well.

“I’m sick of receiving questioning glances from your men, wondering what I’m doing every night in your cabin, why I’m getting special treatment, and just resenting my very presence on the ship.”

“And so you think that dressing like a man is going to win you the crew’s favor?”

“I’ve already told you I’m not an idiot, Logan, I know that won’t work. Which is precisely why I’m joining your crew. If I’m going to be stuck on this ship with you for another two months until we arrive in England, then damn it, I’m going to work for my passage!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I have never been more serious.” Prepared to point out the flaws in her reasoning, Logan looked up to see her standing in front of the mirror with a knife in one hand and a handful of hair in the other. He ran to her side and grabbed her wrist before she could cut a single strand.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as tore the knife from her grasp and tossed it onto the bed.

“What am I doing? What are you doing! What makes you think you have the right to stop me from doing anything?”

“I put up with your attitude, I indulge your ridiculous requests, and I’ll even allow you to parade around my ship wearing those seductive clothes and pretending to be a pirate.”

“How on earth are these seductive?”

“I will not, however, allow you to touch even one lock of that hair.”

She was fuming. “How dare you!  Who the hell do you think you are?”

He planted his feet and stared down at her. “I’m your Captain, or did you forget already? As a member of my crew, you are under my direction and care, and your first order is to erase all thoughts of cutting your hair from your mind.” He walked to his dresser and opened the top drawer, pulling a red bandana from it. “Here, tie it back if it gets in your face, but don’t you ever cut it.” His anger dissipated and he reached up to wrap a finger around a curl. “It’s much too beautiful to be tamed.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry. “I suppose you’re going to say that the same goes for me, as well.”

He smiled. “You have me confused with one of your love-struck suitors, Amber. I know better, that you are far too bull-headed to ever be tamed. God help the poor sap who thinks he ever can.” His hand darted out and caught hers mid-air. “I’m growing tired of you trying to slap me all the time.”

“It worked once,” she rebutted, trying to wrench her hand from his grasp. He gripped it harder and pulled her against him.

“Yes, but only because I was enjoying our first kiss far too much to anticipate your anger. I wonder though,” he said as his gaze dropped to her lips, “if you can deny the attraction between us after what happened last night.”

He dropped his lips to hers, letting her hand go so he could cup her face and tilt it to meet his, perfecting the angle between them. He felt himself becoming aroused as he savagely kissed her, one hand moving to tangle in her hair and driving his hips into her body. Only after the initial passion wore off did he realize that she hadn’t moved to kiss him back. He looked down, startled to see that her face was frozen in a look of complete disinterest.

“I can, and I just did.”

He watched in disbelief as she walked around him and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

But he didn’t see her lean against the doorframe and shut her eyes, in an attempt to regain her composure from the reeling kiss she had just used every ounce of willpower not to react to. Once her knees stopped shaking, she pulled herself together and set off to begin her first day of piracy.

Chapter Thirteen

“You want me do what?” Eli shouted, drawing stares from the men busy at work on the main deck. “Logan, usually I’m behind you a hundred percent, but I need to ask; have you lost your damn mind?”

“Sure as hell feels like it,” replied Logan, as he rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand. “I don’t understand it either, really, but I do respect her tenacity.”

“So she’s got her mind set on this,” said Eli with a sigh as he watched Amber’s progression across the deck, carrying a bucket of water and a rag, determination in each stride and an awareness that she was being watched by almost everyone.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, did you try to talk her out if it?”

“Of course I did,” he met Eli’s unconvinced gaze. “What, you think I encouraged her somehow? It’s not as if I wanted this, it’s just another thing to worry about, having her underfoot. What if she gets hurt?”

Eli smiled. “My dear Logan, could that possibly be concern I hear for our little pirate-to-be?”

“Absolutely not. We’re like oil and water, we just don’t mix.”

“If we’re keeping with the metaphors, I’d say that you are more like gunpowder, and she’s the flame. An explosive, and often deadly combination.”

Logan considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “Whatever it may be, now isn’t the time for a literary dissection of our sordid relationship. Just do what I said.”

Eli looked apprehensive. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Logan responded with a grin, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “If she wants to work for her passage, then I want her worked to the bone. If she lasts more than three days, you’re not pushing her hard enough. I want to see her crumble.”

The most beautiful sight Amber had ever beheld was the Caribbean sun setting over the horizon. Not because the crystal water scattered the last rays of light, flickering magically as the sky darkened from a dusky pink into a rich blue, but because it meant her first day of work on board the Imperial Shadow had come to an official end.

Only her firm resolution could make her stand, her every muscle screaming in protest as she bent to retrieve her swab and bucket of dirty seawater. She had spent the entire day on her hands and knees washing the deck, and her aching body was not in agreement with her stubborn decision. An intense pain shot down her back to remind her of her poor choice. Refusing to grimace, she dumped the excess water over the side of the ship, stored her supplies and followed the men down the stairs into the galley, where she stood at the end of the line for dinner. When it was her turn, Abe gave her a sympathetic smile and an extra biscuit, which she scarfed down before she even reached the orlop, where the men ate and slept.

An uncomfortable silence fell as she stood with her tin plate and mug in the doorway, the crew uncertain of her place among them, and how to act around her. At last, Pax cleared his throat and offered her the empty spot on the bench next to him.

“Thank you,” she responded wearily as she slid down with her food.

“So what do you think?” Pax asked with a smile.

Amber looked up from her meat. “What do I think of what, the food? It’s fine.”

He laughed. “No, I mean what do you think about working on the ship?”

She was about to confess how tired she was when she sensed Logan’s presence behind her. There was no mistaking the musky masculine scent that followed him everywhere. “It’s invigorating,” she lied. “I find it quite enjoyable. Can’t wait until tomorrow!”  Pax shrugged and went back to eating, while Amber watched Logan’s distorted reflection in her mug storm from the room. She smiled and took a swig of grog, which was strong enough to cover the bland taste of her food, but not quite strong enough to mask the low quality of the liquor.

Deacon saw her face as she choked down the liquid. “Probably should have warned you. This isn’t the stuff you got in the Captain’s quarters, I bet.”  Noticing the melancholy look on Pax’s face as he stared into his cup, she forced herself to take another sip, this time without wincing.

“It isn’t bad at all!” she said through clenched teeth, Pax’s smile doing very little to offset the burning path the grog made down her throat.

“You’re going to have to get used to a lot of things down here, I reckon. Things are very different for the crew than for the Captain,” Deacon told her.

“Like what, for example?”

“Well for one, you ain’t got no cushy bed to sleep on!” Creed said with a toothy grin.

“But hammocks are quite comfortable,” added Pax, not wanting to upset her. “They take some getting used to, but once you learn how to stay in them, you’ll probably sleep like an infant.”

Creed was determined to scare her, however, and leaned over the table. “And you don’t get to sleep in, either. It’s up before the sun, ready to work and no complaining or you don’t get any breakfast!”

“Get back over there, you mongrel,” Deacon reprimanded as he swatted Creed with his hand. “Miss Amber, he’s just telling tales. Well, not about the waking up early, that’s the truth I suppose. But he’s the biggest complainer of them all, and I think Abe gives him extra breakfast just to shut him up.”

“Anything else I need to know about?” Amber asked with a chuckle.

“Well, if Eli sees you’re not doing your job, he can threaten to dock your pay till you shape up,” declared Pax, “And if you don’t he can stick you on permanent swab or bilge duty.”

“Eli don’t beat you though,” came a quiet remark from Anton at the end of the table, who, Amber remembered, stepped forward during Lyle’s trial to reveal the lesions on his back from the Lyle’s whip. She reached a sympathetic hand out to cover his much larger, darker one, and his eyes lifted to meet hers.

“How are you doing, Anton? Is your back healing properly?”

Moved by her compassion, he nodded. “The doc took a look at it and said it was infected, and he had to clean it out, which stung something awful. But he patched it up, and when he checked it out today he said it was much better. He even said I can get back to real work in a few days, and stop taking it easy.”

“That’s wonderful!” she said, thankful that Lyle was far away.

“I know. The doc seemed pleased too. Hey Miss Amber, do you want my extra biscuit? Abe always gives me three, on account of me being so big and all, but I’m full. You can have it if you want it,” he said, extending it to her. She opened her mouth to turn him down, but instead she accepted the offered biscuit. “I can take these for you too,” he picked up her empty plate and mug, stacking them on top of his and ignoring her protests. “Don’t worry, I’m going back up there to help Abe with some things, and I don’t mind washin’ them, really.”  With that he lumbered off, leaving the rest of the table in astonished silence.

“Well Miss Amber, I think you just made yourself a new friend,” Deacon finally spoke.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard more than four words out of his mouth at a time,” Pax added. “I had no idea he was capable of an entire conversation. I think he must have a crush on you,” he said with a wink.

Amber smiled. “Shyness doesn’t equate to intelligence, boys. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy the last bit of light up top before settling down to sleep. Have a good night!”

Amber dawdled for as long as she could on deck, trying to put off going below with a bunch of half-dressed, snoring men. As far as she knew, she didn’t even have a hammock. With a sigh, she stared at the foaming wake that trailed behind the ship, leaning over the railing and attempting to relax her tense muscles. It was quiet now. She had a brief run-in with the officers as they left Logan’s cabin an hour before, but they had retired to their quarters and left her alone on deck with the boatswain. Just then he shouted, drawing her attention towards the water, where she saw silver shapes darting in and out of the waves. With a delighted start she realized they were porpoises, playing in the warm water and chattering happily to each other. She took it as a sign that everything would work out, and climbed down into the orlop, steeling herself for what she would find.

The tables and benches had been removed and now hammocks filled the large room, covering almost every beam and crossbar possible. She was pleased to see that no one was completely naked, but she figured that she would have to get used to seeing grown men in their underwear. Hairy men, she thought to herself with a shiver of repulsion as she caught sight of a particularly large pirate flopped over the side of his hammock. His loud grunts added to the cacophony of snores and murmurs that filled the air, and there was a pungent smell she could not quite identify.

She gave up trying when she saw her hammock, however. All the way over in the corner, near the door so she would receive some ventilation, someone had hung her new bed. There was even a blanket folded next to it in case she got cold. She eyed the thick ropes with hesitation before hoisting herself up into the swinging net and promptly falling over to the other side. After picking herself up and noting that no one had witnessed her accident, she tried again. This time she stayed put, and after a little wriggling and repositioning herself she was comfortable enough to drift off to sleep, rocked in her hammock like a baby in a cradle. Just like Pax said.

What seemed like mere minutes after falling asleep, she awoke with a start and crashed to the floor. She glanced around to see if anyone had seen her this time, realizing with a shock that she was the only one in the room. Grumbling, she pulled her sore body up and wiped off her pants. Then she folded up her hammock and stored it in the crates against the wall, and hurried up the narrow stairs to grab breakfast. The galley was empty except for Abe and Eli, who sat drinking cups of coffee. They both looked up when she entered.

“Morning,” she murmured as she reached for a pastry.

“How did you sleep?”  Abe asked her, passing her a mug. She washed down her food with the coffee and shrugged.

“Well enough, but I didn’t wake up on time. Logan is probably going to hold it over my head like the smug, pompous as—”

“He isn’t awake yet,” Eli cut her off with a grin. “He’s still sleeping off the rum from last night. He drank a bit too much and then passed out, sprawled on his bed with his boots on. When I checked on him ten minutes ago he hadn’t moved from that position. So I think you have a bit of time to relax before getting to work, if you’re going to continue this silly game.”

She tilted her chin. “It isn’t a game, Elijah,” she told him as she wrapped another biscuit in a napkin for later. “But, assuming it was a game, I’d be winning!”  She winked at the two men and left to join the rest of the crew on deck.

Amber was propped on a barrel untangling a line of rope when Logan burst from his cabin with a formidable scowl. He blinked into the bright light and almost immediately settled his hard gaze on her. She squared her shoulders and continued her work, though her hands were burning from where the coarse rope rubbed the soft pads of her fingers. Logan disappeared below deck and resurfaced minutes later with a cup of coffee and a biscuit. She refused to watch him walk about the deck and talk to the men, and yet every nerve ending in her body was aware of his location. As he approached her now they seemed to vibrate with unsettled energy, and she quelled the urge to jump up and slap him, or embrace him, or run away…anything to quiet her tumultuous emotions. She chose silence.

“So am I right in assuming you’ve given up?” Logan inquired as he stood above her in his typical power stance; hands on hips, legs shoulder-width apart to keep his balance on the rocking deck, and a crooked smile.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re doing something mundane and womanly, more suited to your gentle nature. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

“Well, believe it or not Logan, you’re wrong again. I’m just helping Pax out until he’s ready to show me some things.”

“What sort of things?”

She smiled. “I’m not sure, but he said it would be fun!” Logan groaned in response. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s too damn early.” He spun on his heel and lumbered across the deck towards his cabin.

“What’s his problem?” Pax asked as he walked up behind her and tossed her a rope. Catching the end of it she shrugged.

“Who knows? Now what am I doing with this? And what…are you doing?” She turned her head to follow Pax’s movements behind her as he wound the rope around her waist and tied it. He grabbed the knot and lifted, hoisting Amber off the ground until her legs dangled. As he lowered her back down he grinned. “Pax, I’m getting the oddest feeling that I’m about to do something dangerous or crazy. And knowing you, it’s probably both.”

“Well crazy maybe, but dangerous? Not in the least!” He yanked on the rope again for good measure, as if it would comfort her. “Why, are you too scared?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“Two things. First, how angry will this make Logan?”

“Extremely angry. And the second thing?”

She smiled. “How strong is this rope?”

Logan was cleaning his pistol for the third time when he heard the commotion outside his cabin. Boredom made him put his gun down on the table and approach the door, but curiosity drove him to open it. “Logan doesn’t need to know what, gentleman?” Deacon stumbled back in surprise; Noah dropped his gaze. “Men, something you wanted to tell me?”

Deacon coughed, then stepped aside and raised his finger. Color rushed to Logan’s face and he wished he hadn’t left his pistol in the room, unloaded. Seeing Amber ten yards above him, standing on the main topsail yard alongside Pax with nothing but a single rope to prevent her from plummeting to her death, nearly undid any ounce of control he had on his temper, and he fought with the urge to go get his gun. He spotted Eli at the base of the mast, and hurried over to him.

“What the HELL is going on?”

Eli jumped and spun around, a guilty expression immediately wiping the smile off his face. “Logan, oh, uh…feeling better?”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Do I look like I feel any better?”

“Listen, before you go off on me—”

“Are you insane? She could kill herself up there! You didn’t think to stop her, or come get me? What does Pax think he’s doing, anyway?”

“He’s just showing her how to let down the sail,” he rushed to explain. “But look, don’t get angry. She’s a natural, like a damn monkey up there. See?” he pointed at Amber. Logan shielded his eyes against the sun and looked up.

Eli had been right. Amber was balanced on the balls of her feet, unfazed by the wind that whipped her hair around her face or the thirty feet between her and the deck of the ship. She watched Pax with a smile, every so often throwing her head back to laugh at something that he said. Logan felt jealousy flaring within him and wished he could converse so easily with the fiery girl, make her laugh as Pax did so effortlessly.

He thought he saw her smile waver when she noticed him standing below her, but it was back in an instant. She motioned to Pax, who tripped in his haste to turn and look down at his Captain. Amber reached out to steady his arm, and then she shared a look with him. He nodded and sidestepped his way towards the mast, descending in seconds.

“She’s all yours,” he mumbled to Logan as he ducked behind him, counting on Logan’s inability to take his eyes off of Amber to keep him out of trouble for the time being. It worked.

“Amber, get down here now!” he called up to her, his scowl deepening. She stared back at him and he was lost in the intensity of her gaze until he realized that her hands had moved to her waist. His stomach plummeted. He stood frozen as she untied the knots in the rope and let it drop beside her, then she crossed her arms in defiance.

With a roar he pushed past Elijah and began scaling the mast, seething with anger and worry. It took him no time at all to reach the main topsail, and as he walked across the beam he saw Amber turn towards him, lose her balance for a second, and then recover it. She met his gaze straight on, without fear.

Logan took a deep breath to calm himself down. Seeing her sway and almost topple over had forced upon him the severity of the situation, and he knew that losing his head would only provoke her to do something even more dangerous. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “Amber, I’d like to know what you are doing up here.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Please.”

“Looks pretty obvious to me, Cap’n,” she responded with a negligent shrug, a mannerism she had picked up from Pax. “I was unfurling the sails because there’s a strong wind today, blowing in from the East. As you can see,” she gestured towards the sail, billowing in the breeze.

“Yes, and I can also recognize an act of defiance when I see one.” He sighed. “Amber, what is it that you want from me? Is it attention, because you sure as hell have it now.”

“It’s not your attention I want,” she replied as she lifted herself onto the balls of her feet, balancing easily with an arm outstretched like a ballet dancer. She raised a leg behind her with her toe pointed and grinned at Logan. “I require something else.”

He winced as he watched her agile acrobatics on the narrow beam, and resisted reaching out to steady her. “What do you want?”

She pivoted to face him. “Respect.”

“All right, fine. I respect you. Can we stop this charade and climb down now, please?” He reached up and caught the dangling rope, extending it towards her. She shook her head.

“You don’t understand, do you Logan? You can’t just say you respect me, and expect the conversation to end. Stop trying to wear me down, because I assure you, it won’t work. You can push me as hard as you want, make me scrub the deck for two more months until we reach England, but I will not give in. So you might as well save yourself the trouble and give up. Besides, you’re being a hypocrite by rushing up here to rescue me, don’t you think? It shows you care.”

He smiled. “I see your point. And I suppose I would be being a hypocrite if I didn’t respect your bullheadedness, seeing as how I respect myself…and I’ve been told that we are exactly alike in that manner.”

“And?”

“And so,” he said with a flourishing bow, “I acquiesce. Congratulations. Can we climb down now? My head hurts like the devil.”

“Now you know how I felt yesterday,” she teased, motioning for him to turn and lead the way down. When Amber’s feet touched the deck, the pirates who had gathered to watch all began cheering.

Eli clapped Logan on the shoulder. “I take it you two have come to an understanding?”

As Logan nodded, Pax rushed up to them. “See, I knew it would work!”

Logan’s smile faded. “Don’t get your hopes up, kid. You’re not getting out of this one unscathed. I want this entire deck swabbed by dinnertime, or you’ll be doing it again, is that perfectly clear?” Pax gulped and hurried away. Logan turned back to Amber, surprised to see her glaring at him. “What have I done now?”

“I just swabbed the decks yesterday, and you know it. Why are you making him do it again?”

“He shouldn’t have gone behind my back and coerced you into doing some asinine stunt to get my attention.”

She glared at him. “It worked, though, didn’t it?”

“That’s not the point. You could have gotten hurt, though of course I’m not saying you would have,” he added, upon seeing her expression. “Listen, I’ve been a Captain for many years, I know what I’m doing. May I continue to do my job, or do I need your permission now?”

She looked startled. “I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do, Logan. I just think you need to go easy on him, because he looks up to you and he was just trying to help.”

He scratched the stubble on his chin as he contemplated her response, and then shrugged. “You may be right.” Eli and Deacon shared a bewildered glance that Logan saw out of the corner of his eye. “What, I can’t admit to being wrong every once in awhile? I’m fallible, too, you know. I have my faults…” This time, Amber was the one to laugh. He smiled at her. “Not many, though.”

“Are you sure about that, Cap’n? Because I can point out several if you’re interested in what I have to say,” Amber responded.

He groaned. “Do I ever have any choice in the damn matter?”

The peace only lasted so long, however. Dusk was settling as Logan and Amber fought once again, while the crew, now accustomed to the sound of yelling coming from his cabin, paid no heed to the quarrel.

“Damn it, Amber! I thought we settled this earlier,” Logan barked as the door swung open and he followed her into the pale moonlight. She spun to face him.

“I don’t recall saying that I was going to stop working. I can’t stay locked in your cabin for another two months, I’d go out of my mind with boredom. And besides, that would be as if I were admitting defeat,” she explained. “And I’m not about to do that, no matter what you say to me.”

He threw up his arms. “For the love of god, how the hell is sleeping in a bed a sign of surrender? You are the most ridiculous, stubborn, aggravating woman I have ever met,” he fumed.

“And you’re an ornery know-it-all,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away from him. “Goodnight, Logan. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Elijah arrived in time to see the top of her head disappearing beneath the hatch. “What was that all about?”

Logan groaned. “She refuses to do anything sensible. She’s not a pirate, so why does she insist on pretending to be one?”

“Come on, I’ll pour you a drink,” Eli said as he led his friend back into the cabin, where he went to work fixing up two glasses of rum. Logan accepted his with a grunt, tossing back the contents in one swallow and gesturing for more. “I think you’d do well to remember what happened last night when you tried to drown your anger in liquor. Do you really want to repeat that?”

“Get off my bloody back, mate.”

“Watch it, Logan, your accent is slipping. You aught to be more careful of that, unless you plan on telling Amber and the rest of the crew? Not that I think it’s such a terrible idea, it would be nice to stop hiding what you are—”

“Hell no,” Logan articulated carefully in a flawless American accent. “And don’t bring it up again.”

“Fine, whatever you say. Now,” he paused to pour himself another glass, “what are you going to do about Amber?”

“What can I do? I’ve done just about everything I can think of, and yet she still refuses to be reasonable. Maybe I can lock her in the brig until we get to London,” he mused wistfully.

“She’d find a way out, you know she would.” Eli laughed. “And then there would be the devil to pay.”

“Well, what do you suggest then, since you seem to know everything?”

“Why don’t you stop treating her like a child barely out of swaddling, first of all. Don’t gape at me, Logan, everyone sees the way you look at her, how you watch over her like a hawk. You’re too protective of her. Combine that with your competitive nature, add a dash of lust and a pinch of anger, and you have the perfect recipe for trouble. It’s no wonder she’s confused. You keep her in the sweltering heat all day, forcing her to scrub the deck, and then set up her hammock for her. You ask me to treat her like any of the men on board, and yet when she climbs the mast to learn something that all sailors must know by the time they take to the ocean, you look like you’re about to throttle someone.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Logan said with a sigh, his head propped on his hands. “She says she wants my respect.”

“Do you respect her? And be honest with me, I know when you’re lying.”

“Of course I do. She’s intelligent, brave, creative—”

“Beautiful?”

“God, yes. She’s…wait,” he narrowed his eyes, “just what are you getting at?”

“I’m saying that you want her, Logan. You might as well admit it.”

“I will not.”

Eli shrugged. “That’s good, then. That means you won’t mind that Pax has every intention of taking Miss Amber up to the crow’s nest tonight to finish what you started in Tortuga.” Logan leapt to his feet with a feral growl and started towards the door. “Relax, you know none of your men would ever go behind your back like that, unless they had a death wish. But will you admit to yourself, now, that you care for her?”

“How can I care for her, when every time I see her I want to wring her neck?”

“Because,” Eli explained patiently, “you know deep down that you would do almost anything to protect her, and you would slaughter any man who harmed a single hair on her head. You’ve appointed yourself her official guardian. Besides, there is a very fine line between lust and anger; both are passionate emotions. You might just have trouble distinguishing between the two of them.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to let her run around the ship and get into trouble?”

“I think that when you start treating her like an equal, like a friend, she’ll stop acting out.” He winked. “And who knows what’ll happen when you two finally stop fighting.”

“Now what are you insinuating?”

“Have another drink, Logan, and figure that one out for yourself.”

Chapter Fourteen

The following day, Logan remained silent when Pax enlisted Amber’s assistance in unfurling the sails, and said nothing when Ben offered to show her how to use a sextant and plot a course. He even restrained himself from rushing to help her when she struggled to carry a heavy crate, filled with gunpowder, to the men who were running the cannons on the gun deck. Instead, he went about his own duties and tried to ignore her as she paraded around the ship, helping where she was needed and eagerly learning as much as she could about sailing. He was rewarded for his restraint when he found her alone on deck after dinner, watching the sunset. She appeared lost in thought, but turned to him and smiled as he approached.

“Evening,” he offered as he moved to stand next to her.

“Haven’t seen much of you today, been keeping busy?”

He pretended not to notice the curiosity in her voice. “Took advantage of the nice weather to get some things done. And what about you, how are you faring?”

“Tired,” she admitted. “But it’s a good kind of tired. I’m going to sleep well tonight.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” They stood side by side in amiable silence for a few minutes. It was Logan who spoke first. “Well, I’m going to turn in. Goodnight Amber.”

Amber watched his retreat in puzzlement. What had brought about this change in his behavior, she wondered to herself, and why did her stomach suddenly feel like it was filled with butterflies?

She shrugged it off and went below deck. But instead of sleeping well, as she had anticipated, she found herself tossing and turning, trying in vain to get Logan’s image out of her mind.

A week later she awoke early, and was dressed and ready to start the day before the men even began groaning and climbing from their hammocks. After a quick breakfast she met Eli on deck, as planned, to begin their lesson.

While the sun rose steadily in the sky, she hung on Eli’s every word as he explained to her the fundamentals of sword fighting, running through the steps in her head as he stopped to give the day’s orders to the crew. When at last he handed her a wooden cutlass, she was practically bubbling over with excitement.

They spent the better part of the morning practicing the basic skills required to launch an offensive strike and parry incoming blows. Eli was impressed with her balance and her fast rate of improvement, and Amber was eager to learn more. After dinner that night, Logan found her on deck by herself, brows furrowed in concentration as she ran through the techniques she had learned.

“Widen your stance a little bit more, it’ll help you maintain your stability,” he offered as he walked towards her, hiding his smile when she jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice. She was quick to recover though, and went to work fixing her stance.

“Like this?” she inquired as she rocked on the balls of her feet to test her balance.

“Exactly like that. And always be aware of your environment, so that nobody can sneak up behind you,” he said with a pointed look over her right shoulder. Taking his cue, she spun around in time to block Pax’s vertical cut, step to the right and issue a downward swinging blow that made contact with his torso. “Well done,” he said as Pax fell to the ground, writhing in pretend agony. “You just felled your first pirate.” Amber beamed at Logan before turning to Pax, kicking aside his wooden sword, and holding the tip of her blade to his exposed throat.

“Do you surrender, you scurvy swine?” she asked as she placed her booted foot on his chest and pressed harder with her sword.

“Never!”

She shrugged. “Have it your way,” she told him as she removed the pressure of her blade and lifted her foot. Logan observed as she walked away from her wounded foe, and was amazed when she spun around and swiftly delivered a fatal blow to Pax, who had attempted to rise and reach for his sword. “Always be aware of my surroundings, right Logan?”

He laughed. “Right. Although, you should know that death rarely resembles that,” he said, pointing towards Pax’s theatrical display of twitching and gasping for breath. “Not only is it less melodramatic, but it tends to be over sooner.”

“When do I get to take on the legendary el Tigre?” she inquired as she twirled the blade around in her hands, dropping it in the process.

He smiled at her. “Just keep practicing for now, and when I think you’re ready, you’d be smart to watch your back,” he told her, walking towards his cabin.

“Would it be all right if I kept practicing tonight?”

He turned. “Of course. Just ask Ben to light a few lanterns so you can see. And Amber, you don’t have to ask my permission.”

As he left her, she was again struck with a strange sense of longing. His amiable nature was starting to drive her crazy with need, and she desperately wanted him to turn around and yell at her like he used to, or pull her into his arms and kiss her…

She shook her head and lifted her sword. This was what she wanted, she reminded herself as she worked on her footwork. Wasn’t it? Her life was so much easier without him breathing down the back of her neck every five minutes, always checking to make sure she wasn’t hurting herself or having any fun. And yet, it wasn’t as exciting without someone to argue with.

When the lamps had burned down and her arms ached from holding up the heavy sword, she decided it was time to go to sleep. She sent a mournful look towards Logan’s cabin, where she knew he would be finishing up with his bath and preparing for bed. She glanced down at her own body, covered with a thick layer of sweat and grime, and ardently wished that she could relax in the warm water and wash the tension from her muscles. Instead, she hung her hammock in the corner and fell into a fitful sleep.

No lack of sleep, however, could keep her from rushing through her duties each day so that she could spend more time practicing with her sword. As the weeks progressed she saw herself improving, and was soon able to beat Henry and Johnny with ease. The other men, too, began sparring with her after dinner, finding her a worthy opponent and a fast learner. Before long even Eli had to work to keep up with her endless energy and agile footing. After a particularly tiring fight with the quartermaster, in which Amber succeeded in driving a horizontal cut into Eli’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground and delivering a killing blow before he could recover his sword, Logan stepped forward.

“Well done, Amber,” he exclaimed, proud of her perseverance. “Eli, you had a chance to end the fight five minutes ago when she came at you with the straight thrust, by spinning her blade instead of just knocking it. And Amber, when you start fighting with real swords, you’re going to want to parry with the flat because parrying with the edge is the fastest way to dull your blade.”

Amber accepted the flagon of water that Pax held out to her, took a few sips and then dumped the rest of it over her head. Shaking the drops from her face, she grinned at Logan. “Think I’m ready, yet?”

“You want to spar with me? Right now?” he eyed her with suspicion. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait until tomorrow, when you’ve had a chance to rest?”

“Who needs rest?” she countered. “Unless you’re too scared, in which case I would understand your hesitation…” Logan sent her a menacing look as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, caught and spun the blade that Eli threw him, and took his stance.

“You asked for it, sweetheart.”

The last remaining pirates who had been working now abandoned their tasks and joined the crowd to watch the fight. Money exchanged hands as the men placed bets on who would win, until Eli shushed them, signaling that it was beginning.

They started by circling each other, looking for any weaknesses in the other’s defense. Then Amber lunged forward with a vertical cut, followed quickly by a downward thrust and a horizontal cut, all of which were blocked by Logan. He delivered a powerful strike towards her shoulder, but she ducked beneath his blade and raised hers to parry his vertical attacks, running under the last one. Logan turned to face her as she charged with a downward swinging cut, and by blocking it, sent her spinning. Taking advantage of her lost balance, he kicked the back of her knees hard enough to bring her to the deck, scrambling for her sword that was knocked from her hands upon impact.

As she reached for the blade, he kicked it aside and thrust at her outstretched arm, scratching it as she pulled it against her body and rolled over. Now on her back, she parried his blows with her foot, and managed to kick him with enough force to send him reeling. He lunged to deliver a forward thrust, but she rolled out of the way and managed to wrap her fingers around her sword, bringing it up in time to block another thrust and return with a horizontal cut. As Logan parried, she jumped to her feet and attacked with several hard blows to his shoulders and legs, all of which he managed to avoid.

Both of them were drenched in sweat at this point, panting in the warm, humid air. She flicked a strand of hair from her face and raised her sword above her head to block his vertical strike, and then brought it about to knock aside his forward thrust. Logan slid his blade along hers until the hilts were locked against each other, and using his height and weight to his advantage, he pushed her backwards until she stumbled over a pile of rope, lost her balance, and fell. As soon as she hit the deck, his blade was at her throat.

She swallowed heavily and looked up at the formidable pirate standing above her, having forgotten for a moment that the swords they used were made of wood, thankful that the only damage she would receive would be a few nasty bruises. Logan lowered his sword, and with a smile, helped her to her feet.

There were a few triumphant roars as men collected on their bets, and some good natured arguments about the fight, but Amber just stood there, staring at Logan. He reached up to brush a curl from her eyes. “Did I hurt you at all?” he asked with concern etched on his face, and she could only shake her head in response. “Are you sure? How are your knees, I didn’t knock you too hard?”

“No, I’m all right,” she managed to whisper.

“Good. Listen, I apologize for getting a bit carried away, but you fought incredibly well, especially for—”

“A woman?” she interjected, finding her voice at last.

“I was going to say for someone who hadn’t picked up a blade until three weeks ago,” he told her with a smile. “But you’re sure you aren’t hurt at all?”

She flushed. “Just my ego. I suppose it was foolish of me to challenge the great el Tigre, wasn’t it?” Before he could respond and tell her how wrong she was, she had turned and disappeared below deck. He watched her go, wishing he could take her into his arms and kiss away her embarrassment, make her forget about a stupid fight.

“Well done, mate,” exclaimed Eli as he approached Logan, counting his money. “It was a hard call there for a while, but you came through in the end, just like you always…what’s the matter?”

Logan shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

It was past midnight and everyone had long since gone to bed, when Logan set down the book he had been trying to read and left his cabin. He crossed the empty deck and descended the stairs into the orlop, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he searched the swinging hammocks for Amber.

He found her sound asleep by the opposite doorway, in the same spot he had hung her hammock for her the first night. Tiptoeing past his snoring crew, he reached her side. Her hair was tangled around her face and she was sprawled out with a leg hanging over the edge, dressed in a huge shirt that he recognized as belonging to Anton. Her own clothes were draped over another rafter and upon inspection, Logan found them to be damp. Having been supplied with only one outfit, she was apparently doing everything she could to keep it clean.

He made a mental note as he slid one arm beneath her back, and the other beneath her knees. Then he scooped her up, careful not to jostle her awake or make any noise, and headed towards the stairs. Once on deck, a cool breeze swept by them and Amber whimpered in his arms, before snuggling closer to the warmth of his chest. Logan was bewitched by the innocence of the sleeping girl in his arms, but made it back to his cabin without waking her, and with care, tucked her into his bed. At once, she curled up and her breathing evened out, calmed by the comfort of the large bed and the soft pillows.

He watched her sleep for a few minutes and then settled down on the floor with a blanket. Even on the hard wood, he slept more soundly than he had in the past three weeks, just from having her close to him again.

It took Amber a few moments to recognize where she was upon waking, the wide expanse of the bed beneath her a far cry from the hammock she had grown used to. Blinking sleep from her eyes, she caught Logan’s gaze as he sat at the table, reading.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

She attempted to pull herself into a seated position, an action that made her entire body seize with pain. She moaned. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so sore in my life.”

“Well, I can have breakfast brought up, or, if you’d prefer, you can go see what’s behind the screen over there.” Following the direction of his finger, Amber noticed the newest addition to the corner of the room: a large, gilded oriental folding screen. With a curious glance at Logan, she stood and walked towards it.

“Oh, it’s wonderful,” she cried as she took in the sight of the bathtub, filled with steaming water.

“Do you like it?”

“I’ve been dreaming about a bath for weeks! But how did you know?”

He laughed. “It’s not a secret that you are in desperate need of a bath, Amber. Anyone would after three weeks of doing what you’ve been doing.” He listened to the splash as she settled into the tub. “I’ve also located a new set of clothes for you, since I’ve noticed your one pair is already growing quite ragged. They should be on the stool, next to the bar of soap. Take what you want, I can put the rest back down below or you can keep them for later.”

“You seem to be on your best behavior today,” she remarked from behind the screen. “Does it have anything to do with abducting me in the middle of the night?”

“It might,” he replied with a smile. “I figured any woman that can beat me in a swordfight deserves a nice bed to sleep in.”

“But I didn’t beat you.”

“Ah, but you’ve only been practicing for a few weeks. I’ve seen lot of men, including me, struggle, to pick up techniques that come easily to you. Another month or two of working at it and I have no doubt that you could…” he trailed off as his gaze settled on the mirror across the room, and he forgot everything but the image reflected in it.

He had thought that the privacy screen would be seen as a gesture of respect and trust, but he hadn’t anticipated that the mirror above the dresser would be positioned at just the right angle to reflect behind it. The bathtub was in full view, and this included the very wet, and very naked girl currently using it.

His mouth went dry as he watched her lift the sponge, heavy with water, and wring it over her head. Dirt and sweat ran in rivulets down her glistening skin as she scrubbed herself clean. So mesmerized was he by the taunting display that he failed to notice she was speaking. He cleared his husky throat.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked you to finish your sentence,” she said with a shake of her head, unaware that every movement was on display for Logan’s pleasure. He struggled to formulate a reply.

“Oh, I uh, simply was saying that…” he forced himself to drop his eyes from the mirror. “Ah yes, I was saying that with a little more practice, you’d be able to beat me with ease.”

“You really think so?” she said, a smile spreading across her face.

He found himself staring again. “I do.”

“Good, because I plan to win someday, el Tigre, so you better watch out or you’ll find yourself looking down the length of my blade!” She lifted her arm from the water as if she were holding a sword and cut the air with a swift movement, one that caused her dripping breasts to bounce. Logan started coughing. “Are you all right? Logan, do you need help?” Without waiting for an answer, she began to stand.

The last thing he needed was to see her standing in front of him, close enough to touch. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I just need some air.” He stood and all but ran from the room, slamming the door behind him with a bang that made Eli turn around.

“What’s wrong now, she didn’t like the tub?”

“The problem isn’t that she didn’t like it,” he replied with a scowl. “It’s that I like it too much.” He stormed off, leaving his friend standing alone and very confused.

Amber emerged clean and re-energized sometime later, wearing a new pair of black breeches and a white shirt, with her hair in a messy plait down her back. She had chosen to ignore the boots that had been lying next to the clothes, opting instead to go barefoot. She found Logan on the main deck speaking with Anton.

“Good afternoon, Anton, Logan.”

“Ah Amber, are you dressed?”

“Excuse me?”

“Refreshed. Are you refreshed?”

She shot him a puzzled look. “Yes, thank you. I feel much better.”

Anton cleared his throat. “That was some fight yesterday, Miss Amber, and I was thinking that maybe I could show you some wrestling moves? If you’re interested of course. It would help you be quicker on your feet, and would come in handy if you get your sword knocked out of your hands again.”

“That would be wonderful! When can we start?”

“Amber, I don’t think he meant today—”

But Anton cut him off. “After supper, maybe? I mean if that’s all right with you, Cap’n,” he added, noticing Logan’s less than pleased expression.

Logan looked back and forth between Amber and Anton, and sighed. “Of course its fine with me, just be careful.”

She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Cap’n, I’m indestructible!”

True to form, a week later Amber was proficient in wrestling techniques and had even picked up a few boxing pointers from Pax. Logan found himself wishing that she would be so passionate about a less dangerous hobby, especially after she came into the cabin one night nursing a split lip. He had looked up from the book he was reading when she entered, and demanded to know why she was holding a cloth to her face.

“Relax Logan, it’s nothing serious,” she reassured him, showing him the cut. He raced to her side and inspected her for further injuries.

“Who the hell did this to you?”

“I told you it’s—”

“Answer me!”

She shook her head. “Fine, if you have to know, it was Pax. Logan, what are you…come back!” He didn’t listen. He ran to the door, threw it open and shouted for the young pirate. Amber rolled her eyes and leaned against the table to watch.

“You wanted to see me, Cap’n?” Pax said nervously as he entered the cabin.

“I want to know what in god’s name you think you were…hold on,” he stopped, looking at Pax for the first time. “Take off your hat.” Ignoring Amber’s snickers, Pax removed his hat and stared at the floor, revealing a swollen eye and a bloody nose.

Logan started laughing. “You’re dismissed, but have Piers check you out to make sure she didn’t break anything.”

Pax made a shamed retreat as Logan turned to Amber. “How many more of my men have you injured? Do I have to warn everyone about you now?” She shrugged and made to smile, cringing as the action split open her lip again and fresh blood seeped from the cut. Ignoring her gestures for him to stand back, he hurried over to her and lifted her onto the table.

“I’ve told you it isn’t a big deal,” she tried to explain again as he ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt. “And it certainly isn’t worth ruining a shirt.”

“Better my shirt than your lips,” he muttered as he dabbed the cut. He worked in silence for a minute and then lifted his eyes to meet her cautious gaze. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just handsome when you concentrate on something.”

“Amber, I—” And then she was kissing him, her hand around his neck, pulling him against her. He tensed beneath her touch, but upon her persistence he finally gave in. With a growl he crushed his mouth closer against hers, but stopped when he felt her wince under the sudden pressure. He pulled away and saw her rubbing her swollen lip. His eyes clouded over with shame.

“Logan, it’s fine,” she promised as she reached for him, but he kept backing towards the door. “Stop!”

And then he was gone. She slid from the table with a frown and wondered why she was so fragile to him, and why it bothered her so much.

“Come with me.”

Amber looked up from the fishing nets she had been repairing. “Where are we going?”

“I can’t tell you. It will ruin the surprise,” Logan said. She tried to read his expression, but finding nothing in his smile, she stood and took his outstretched hand. “Don’t worry, I’m fairly certain you’ll enjoy this one,” he told her as he led her below deck and down again into the hold. He struck a match and barrels and crates became visible in the small fire’s glow. As he lit the wicks in two lanterns, Amber was struck by the size of the storage deck and the sheer amount of stuff inside it. He began weaving his way through the mountains of wooden containers purposefully.

Reaching it, he squatted down and pulled from his belt a crowbar she had not noticed that he was carrying. “How do you know where to go?” she inquired as she held the lamps for him to see.

“Same way you know your way around your library, I would assume. I’d bet you could locate any book with your eyes closed, just by having been up and down the rows hundreds of times.”  She smiled at the accurate guess. “This is my ship; I have a specific organizational system.”

“Well, what’s in this box, then?”

“Presents,” he said as he pried the lid off and moved it aside. The light from the lanterns hit the metal objects in the crate and reflected into Amber’s eyes, blinding her until she lowered her gaze and saw that it was filled with swords. Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her face. Without a word he took the lamps and stepped aside, motioning her to find one that she liked. One by one she lifted out cutlass and rapier, broadsword and hangar, testing each for weight and balance as Logan watched in silence. She decided on a simple yet elegant cutlass with a curved blade and a leather scabbard, though she kept eyeing the extravagant cavalry sword with the carved inscription.

He insisted she take both, and, ignoring her protests, led her over to another open crate that contained smaller blades. He helped her choose several daggers and then handed her a baldric to hold most of them. On top of the pile in her arms he dumped several strips of leather, which he explained were used to secure the smaller knives about her body so they would remain hidden but accessible. He added a boarding axe, a wide brimmed hat and a thick, long jacket.

“I’ve come to terms with the idea of you fighting amongst my men. In fact, I can see no other way around it, if I plan on making it to England without you slitting my throat while I sleep.” She chuckled. “But I refuse to allow you to enter a battle resembling a woman in any way. Your hair will be plaited and pinned to the top of your head, and you will wear a scarf around it to conceal the color. The hat will further ensure nobody sees your hair, and also will cast a shadow over your face, hiding your feminine features. Here, give me those and try on the coat,” he told her as she shifted the pile from her arms into his and slid into the jacket.

“It’s heavy,” she noted, lifting up her arms and folding back the sleeves to reveal her hands.

“I know it is, but it won’t look too out of place, and it masks your figure. I thought about binding your chest, but realized that your hips would still give you away.” She blushed as she shrugged out of the jacket and placed it with her other things, taking the pile from him.

“Logan, I don’t know how to thank you for all of this.”

“Just do your best not to get yourself killed,” he responded with a cocky smile, which faded as she gave him a light-hearted kick in the shins. “It isn’t as big a deal as you would think, I mean, just look at this place.” He lifted the lantern to illuminate the room. “There’s far too much stuff in here, and it just keeps piling up. In the past few years we’ve stopped stripping down the ships we capture; instead we steal only the provisions that we foresee needing, like food and water, and on occasion, goods of exceptional value that we can sell upon making port. Other than that, anything you want that is down here is yours. There are some crates with books over there, and the boxes stacked in this corner are stuffed with yards upon yards of fine fabrics and laces and satins…why we ever thought we would need six bolts of embroidered silk escapes me. But, nevertheless, if you want it, it’s here.

“Oh, and look at this! This is interesting, a whole trunk of wigs. If pirating doesn’t work out for you, you always have a future as a royal judge. I think the look suits you very well,” he said as he adjusted a white powdered wig on her head. She giggled as it slid over her eyes.

“Thank you, but no.”

He shrugged and tossed the wig back into the trunk. “Suit yourself. How about some...buckles! Oh yes, every girl loves to adorn herself from head to toe with buckles. It’s the newest trend, all the girls are doing it this Season. And now you’re giving me that look again.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you think I’m crazy.”

“Not crazy, just…different. Silly, fun. I like it. It’s a side of you I haven’t seen before.”

“What, now pirates can’t be silly?” he asked with a straight face as he placed a large purple hat, covered with feathers and fake birds, at a jaunty angle on his head. He snapped open a fan and pretended to cool himself, sending her a coy glance over the top of the gilded blades, like a fresh debutante. “Why Lady Amber, may I say you look striking in that ensemble,” he said in a distinct British accent. “Where on earth did you find such a creation?”

“Your accent is flawless,” she noted, dusting off a leather tricorne hat. “Are you from England, originally?”

“Yes. But listen, I have another present for you if you’ll head back on deck with me.”

She placed the hat back into the trunk and eyed him with suspicion. “Are you attempting to distract me from asking questions about your personal life by dangling pretty baubles and gifts in front of me?”

“I’m not sure. Is it working?”

“Yes.”

He laughed and offered her his arm. “Then that’s exactly what I’m doing. Come on, I’m proud of this one,” he said, leading her up the stairs. Back in his cabin, he instructed her to place everything on the bed and stand with her eyes closed and palms extended. “I can see you peeking,” he scolded as she snapped her eyes shut.

Something dropped into her hands, and he told her to open her eyes. “What do you think?”

“It’s incredible,” she exclaimed, as she gaped at the pistol with the carved ivory handle that she had noticed in Tortuga. Even now, it somehow felt like it was constructed for her alone, so perfect did it feel in her hands. “But Logan, this is a priceless weapon, and it must cost a fortune. I can’t accept this.”

“I already told you, I’ve acquired more wealth than I could spend in five lifetimes. I remembered you liked it, so it’s yours. I had William take a look at it, and he was able to adjust the trigger so that it’s not so responsive. I can show you a few things tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” she met his eyes and a look of understanding passed between them, bridging the gap the tiniest bit.

Chapter Fifteen

For the next two weeks they carried on in the same civil manner, but the tension between them continued to grow. Every night Amber would bathe in the cabin while Logan tried not to watch—and failed. He attempted several times to leave, but on each occasion Amber insisted that he stay, citing the need for stimulating conversation after a long, grueling day. He had no choice but to acquiesce.

No amount of willpower could pull his gaze from her naked body, however, though he continued to try. Each night, a battle raged within him, between his body and his mind. So far, reason emerged victorious from the fight, but lust refused to back down. Every evening it became harder and harder to convince himself that the ramifications of stripping down and joining her in the tub would far outweigh the benefits. The worst part was when she rose to dry herself off and get dressed, because his eyes were drawn to the water that cascaded down her skin. He hated himself for it.

When she finished she would brush her hair at the table and read for a little while, and then she would crawl under the covers in Logan’s bed and drift to sleep. As she settled in, Logan would bid her goodnight and take his leave of the room to complete his nightly tasks, a ritual he had started after he began to distrust himself around her. She noticed his absence but never thought to ask, thinking nothing amiss.

And when Logan did come back, sometimes early in the morning, he noticed that her breathing evened out upon his entering, as if his mere presence had the ability to calm her. The thought did nothing to settle him. He would hang up his hammock as far away from her as he could and try to fall asleep, but more often then not he would lie awake listening to the sound of her steady breathing.

The sun was beating down upon the cool waters of the Atlantic as the Imperial Shadow floated stationary. It was late morning on a particularly hot day, and Amber was seeking refuge from the sun with the other men on the deck. They were sailing through calm doldrums, and there had been no wind for days. Logan had ordered them to drop the sails, so the ship remained motionless on the flat water. It was too humid to do much of anything. The men lay sprawled out, hardly moving, bored and anxious.

“How long is this expected to last?” she asked as she pulled her shirt away from her sticky skin. All of the men had stripped down to the waist by this time, and she envied their freedom to do so.

Eli gave her a pitiful shrug. “A typical calm lasts only a few days, but I’ve been stuck in one that didn’t end for several weeks.”

Logan threw open the door to his cabin, red-faced and glistening with sweat. “I can’t take this any longer,” he cried in exasperation. “How am I supposed to do anything, let alone concentrate on a bunch of damn nautical maps, when I can’t even move without breaking into a sweat?”

“What’s gotten into his breeches?” whispered Pax into Amber’s ear. She shushed him, her eyes trained on Logan.

“Jackson, drop the ladders. I refuse to sit here and melt when there is an ocean full of cool, inviting water. Men, do whatever you please, but I’m getting out of this damn heat.” With a nod towards Eli, he strode to the edge of the deck, stepped onto the railing and dove into the water.

All at once the quiet ship sprang into action as the crew lunged to their feet and ran to the side, desperate to cool down. Amber herself wasted no time getting off the boat. The moment she hit the water her whole body shuddered with happiness, and she spent the rest of the morning playing with the sailors, reminded of the times she would swim in the pond with her father as a child.

Pax and Deacon rigged up a rope swing, while Henry and Johnny embarked on a quest to find sharks. Fishing nets were tossed down and Jackson managed to catch two sea turtles, exciting the crew even further.

“Just don’t make them suffer,” she yelled up to the pirates who were straining to haul the large animals over the side of the ship.

“Sure thing, Amber,” Jackson called back as he disappeared over the railing, the turtle toppling over on him with a loud thump. She shook her head and continued to float on her back, closing her eyes as the sun warmed her face.

“I’d say that’s about the only productive thing that’s going to come out of today,” Logan remarked as he swam over to her.

“Hmm?”

“The turtles. With the weather staying as it is I doubt anything else will happen, so at least we can say we’re adding a bit of variety to our diet.”

“I’ve never had turtle,” she replied with a languid sigh. “Is it good?”

“It’s not my personal favorite, but the men seem to enjoy it. Plus, it’s convenient and a nice break from the monotony once our meat supplies run low. And if we catch more than one at a time, they can be kept alive for weeks on their backs.”

“That sounds terribly cruel to me.”

He laughed. “You’re a pirate now, remember? You can’t think of killing a man in cold blood and get upset about a turtle. It just doesn’t work that way.”

“I don’t care, it’s still mean. And besides, I’m not a real pirate. I’m only one because it was more appealing to me than the alternative.”

“Which was?”

“Being bored stiff,” she said as she closed her eyes again, letting the quiet breeze brush across her face.

Her eyes shot open. “Logan…there’s a breeze,” she cried as she righted herself in the water.

He lifted his head and sure enough, felt the slightest whisper of wind. Excitement built in him and he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against his body. “Let down the sails! I want to be moving in ten minutes,” he called to his men, sending them scrambling up the side of the ship to follow his demands.

“What are you doing?” she asked, still in his arms as his powerful legs kicked with ease to keep them above water.

“Thanking you.”

“What for?”

He kissed her then, a light kiss that had her searching for breath.

“For getting us out of here. You first,” he offered as he released her. She scurried back onto the ship and was about to rush into action when Logan’s hand grasped her elbow. “You should change before you do anything else.”

“I’m fine really,” she countered. He shook his head, and directed her attention back towards her clothes, all of which were plastered to her body. The look in his eyes was unmistakably heated, and she shrank back from the intensity of his gaze, the butterflies returning to her stomach as she sought privacy in the cabin. When she came back outside they were moving again, the slight breeze catching in the sails and pushing the ship forward. The men were all happy to be busy and settled back into their regular routine without complaint.

Logan saw Amber standing by the quarterdeck and sent her a brilliant smile. “I hope you know how to dance,” he said by way of a greeting as he strode up to her, Eli behind him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“There’s going to be a celebration tonight. Abe is making turtle soup, we’re breaking into the barrels of rum, and several of the men are going to provide us with music. All of this leads me back to my first statement: I hope you can dance.”

“Of course I can dance,” she replied. “I am, after all, a lady.”

“I was hoping you would say that. Because there are stringent rules stating that any woman attending a celebration on board a pirate ship must be dressed appropriately.”

“I’m assuming you are about to tell me what constitutes appropriate dress. Am I correct?”

“Don’t encourage him,” Eli prompted, but was shushed by Logan.

“Appropriate dress for a pirate party is…well, a dress.”

“Ay, think of all the lonely men on the ship Amber,” came Pax’s voice from behind her. “We haven’t had anything to look at in weeks, what with being stuck at sea. Why don’t you give us something pretty to occupy our thoughts?” A glare from Logan sent him scampering away.

Amber smiled. “Don’t worry, I think I understand what is required of me. May I have the afternoon off to rummage around in the hold? You did mention that I could have anything I wanted down there, and I’m hoping I’ll find something to wear.”

“Of course,” he replied, taken off guard. Amber thanked him and left, leaving Logan and Eli alone.

“You really are thick-headed,” Eli chastised him. “That or you love putting yourself in these situations. I don’t think you realize what you’re unknowingly doing to yourself. You saw what happened when you told her she couldn’t keep up with the other men, and now she’s as capable as any member of your crew. What do you think is going to come of you challenging her to be feminine?” Logan groaned. “Exactly.”

Amber was digging through her trunk for her clean white chemise when Eli poked his head into the room. “Abe wanted me to ask you whether you’re going to need some hot water this afternoon, as you won’t have a chance to bathe after dinner.”

She stood, the chemise grasped in her hands. “Well, I did swim today, so I’d say I’m pretty clean. But if he wouldn’t mind terribly, a bucket of fresh water would be wonderful.”

“Fresh water? As in, from our limited stores of drinking water?”

She sent him a coy smile. “I just want to look my best tonight, Elijah.”

He laughed. “Your tactics won’t work on me sweetheart, but I can see why Logan is besotted with you. I’ll tell Abe to bring you a bucket of hot water first thing.”

“Thank you.” She began laying out her outfit for the evening: on top of her chemise she was going to wear a cheerful yellow dress that she had brought from home. In the hold she had found a bolt of red fabric that had a decorative design on it, similar to patterns she had seen in Tortuga. She planned on wrapping it around her waist as a second skirt, to add more color to her ensemble. In another crate she had found a beautiful necklace of blue beads, and a realistic looking cloth flower that she would place behind her ear.

She jumped in front of her pile of clothes as the door opened. “I thought you might like some help,” Logan offered unconvincingly as he tried to see past her to what she was hiding.

“I’m doing quite well on my own, thank you. And you should probably change now or take your clothes with you, as I’ll require privacy until the party.” He nodded and gathered up a clean outfit, then, shooting her one last glance, left without a word. As the door closed she turned, only to spin around as it opened again.

“Good afternoon, Miss Amber,” Anton said as he carried a large bucket inside. He was one of the only pirates who continued to address her formally. “Abe was busy making the turtle soup, so he asked me to bring this up to you. Where would you like it?”

“Over behind the screen is fine, Anton,” she said as she walked over to the table where she had set out a needle and thread to repair a small tear in the red fabric. “Are you looking forward to this evening’s festivities?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “It sure will be nice to be able to relax and have some fun. Is this a good spot?” She glanced up from her work and noted his location in the mirror directly across from the table.

“Yes, that’ll do just fine. I really only need it for…”

“Need it for what. Miss Amber, is everything all right?” His face appeared from behind the screen. She sat at the table, mouth open aghast at the unlimited view of the bathtub that the mirror provided. “Miss Amber, should I fetch Logan?”

She broke from her reverie. “Everything is fine, no need to get anyone. I just got lost in thought for a moment, that’s all.”

He didn’t look at all convinced. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Well then I’ll see you later at the party. Goodbye, Miss Amber,” he said as he made a hasty retreat.

She couldn’t shake a feeling of betrayal. This whole time she had been sitting there exposed, having conversations with the scoundrel as he watched her bathe! It explained much of his behavior, though it did not excuse it.

Excitement rose deep in her belly, but she dismissed that as the anticipation of sweet revenge. “Oh, he is definitely going to pay for this,” she muttered under her breath as she stormed over to the water and began to wash her hair. The salt from the seawater typically left a filmy residue in her long red hair, making it frizz in the humid air. Tonight she had wanted to restore it to its usual lush curls, but the movements of her hands on her scalp were less than soothing. When she was done, she used a cloth to clean the rest of her body, after ensuring that the door was indeed locked. No longer did she naively trust the screen to protect her from her Captain’s leering eyes.

Fully washed, she approached the bed and stood naked, hands on her hips, scrutinizing her outfit once again. Her desire to impress Logan by dressing up like the lady she was had disintegrated. If he insisted on treating her like a common wench, then that is precisely who she would become.

With a smirk she tossed the yellow dress back into her trunk and shrugged into the chemise. The white fabric dipped far enough below her neck to offer an enticing view of her cleavage, but the sleeves were too long for her current purpose, so she cut them off with her dagger. Much better, she admitted as she examined herself in the mirror. Her shoulders were now exposed, showing off the sleek muscles she had acquired over the past few weeks. She wrapped the red skirt around her and slipped the beads around her neck, then as an afterthought, added a cream colored corset that cinched along her back and succeeded in pushing her breasts up even higher. Satisfied with the result, she tucked the flower behind her ear and shook out her curls one last time, before sauntering towards the door.

“Dear god, what the devil does she think she is wearing?” Logan sputtered as Amber emerged from the cabin, choking on his ale. Eli thumped his back until the coughing subsided.

“I warned you not to encourage her, didn’t I?” Eli told him. “One of these days you are going to start taking my advice, old friend.”

As the sun sank behind the horizon, Logan found himself unable to peel his eyes from Amber. At dinnertime she accepted her plate and headed towards the bow of the ship, furthest from where he had already settled down to eat. The rest of the crew gravitated towards her, leaving Logan by himself. Even Eli was torn between sitting with his Captain or the captivating redhead, and after sending Logan an apologetic glance, joined the rest of the men.

After dinner the men set up their instruments and began tuning them. It took a few tries, but eventually the cacophony transitioned into synchronized music. Eli had his flute, Piers played the fiddle, Noah found a dusty cello in the hold, and David banged along with a drum. Pax was the first to ask Amber to dance. He swung her around in a wild Irish jig, her laughter carried by the wind to her ever-present observer, Logan, who leaned against the railing of the ship watching. It was painful to see her shameless flirtation, and even harder was that she interacted so easily with the other men. Every once in awhile, however, he caught her stealing glances in his direction. He dared not get his hopes up, but a part of him refused to ignore the likelihood that her dress, her flirting, her dancing…everything was carefully executed to make him jealous. He hated to admit that it was working. But if she was doing it on purpose, then she must have a reason. He burned to look inside her devious head, read her cunning thoughts and decipher the mixed signals she was constantly sending his way. Instead, he drank another flagon of ale, and continued to watch her dance. His little gypsy.

Amber couldn’t remember a time when she had as much fun as she was having being twirled around the deck by a bunch of unruly, and mostly drunk, pirates. Each of them had approached her and asked for a dance, some of them charming in their awkwardness, others, like Anton, surprising her by being very nimble on their feet. For what seemed like hours she jigged and waltzed, engaged in complicated ballroom figure dances, and stomped along as the men sang their favorite shanties. At first they were hesitant to utter the true lyrics in front of Amber. But soon they loosened up—or perhaps the alcohol lessened their inhibitions—and they started teaching her the raunchy verses so she could sing along.

She felt lightheaded as Elijah set down his flute and took her hand. As the others continued to play, he began to lead her around the deck. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he inquired as she lifted her skirts and circled around him.

“I’m having a wonderful time!”

He circled around her. “I’m glad. I’m also glad that you’ve decided to take Logan down a notch,” he admitted as he stepped in towards her, and back out again.

“I beg your pardon?”

He snickered. “Surely you’ve noticed his gaze boring a hole into your back all evening? I don’t know what your purposes are, but you’ve made him desire you even more. I only hope you know what you’re doing, Amber, because I’ve never seen Logan fight so hard against his desires, and I’m not sure how long he can hold out.”

“And?”

“And, when at last he is unable to fight anymore…well, I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I do,” she replied, surprising herself with the ease at which the answer came to her. She knew what would eventually happen, all right, and it shocked her to her core to realize that she was not afraid. “It’s what I want,” she admitted to Elijah, who looked startled by her confession.

“Really?”

“Yes. I want him. I want Logan.”

“And you’re absolutely positive that it isn’t the ale talking, making you say these things?” She nodded. “Good, because Logan is coming over here right now.”

Before Amber could blink or swallow he was there, his tall form blocking the moonlight and invading her senses. Eli stepped back and winked at Amber, leaving her alone with Logan. “May I?” he asked, his voice rough. Without waiting for her answer he curled an arm around her waist and wrapped his fingers around hers. As he spun her around she began to doubt her decision, thinking that maybe it had been the alcohol giving her courage. For now, being so close to the object of her desire, she was suddenly frightened by the implications of provoking his interest even further.

She forced herself to close her eyes and stop thinking. Sailing in Logan’s arms, she demanded that her brain make a decision: return to the impulsive, emotionally driven ways of her childhood, or remove herself from temptation at once. The distractions around her melted away until all that remained were she herself and Logan. His arms encircling her, his familiar smell comforting and arousing her, the ravenous look she knew would be in his eyes. Never had she been so torn between passion and reason. As he pulled her against his hard chest, she realized that the source of all her turmoil the past few weeks was not anger or even resentment, but instead stemmed from her own need for fulfillment. Logan had awakened something deep inside her the first time he had kissed her, had fanned the flames in Tortuga when he had brought her to the brink of paradise. Even now he set her on fire with a single glance. She desperately wanted to experience the full blaze of his sensuality, as within her, the last flickering candle of reason was extinguished. Ecstasy.

“Logan?”

“Yes, Amber?”

“Will you teach me how to read the stars?”

Logan was taken aback by her strange request, but gave her a quick nod and released her from his hold. Taking her hand he steered her towards the opposite end of the ship, where it was quieter and less crowded.

“Here’s as good a spot as any,” he determined as he peered upwards. “Although it’s still a bit hard to see. The ship has to be fairly dark to make anything out properly.”

“We could always climb up there,” Amber offered, pointing towards the crow’s nest. She was right, he reasoned, the height would bring them out of range of the ship’s lanterns, but it was the small, confined space that worried him. She was already scaling the mast, however, and as he followed her up it was damned hard not to notice her bare legs underneath her thin skirt.

He reached the top and climbed into the narrow, enclosed platform. There was a bit of confusion as they shuffled about, trying to both fit, but at last they stood still with her back pressed against his chest. “I can’t see anything,” she admitted with exasperation.

“Give your eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness,” he told her with a smile. “You’re always so impatient, little monkey.”

She stiffened against him. “What did you call me?”

“Little monkey? I was just referring to the way you scamper up and down the rigging like a monkey. Did I say something to offend you?”

“No,” she admitted, relaxing a bit. “It’s just that my father used to call me that, before he died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to be. It was a long time ago and besides, it doesn’t bring up any bad memories anymore. Just a bit of nostalgia, I suppose.” They didn’t speak for a few minutes. “Oh! I think I can make out a star now,” she told him excitedly, pointing up towards a bright yellow light, sparkling against a backdrop of indigo velvet sky.

He ducked his head to follow her finger upwards. “Aye, you’ve found Polaris.”

“The North Star?”

“Yes, and if you follow it down,” he told her as he extended his arm around her to point with his own finger, “you can see Ursa Minor, which is Latin for—”

“Little bear. I had an atrocious Latin tutor as a child,” she said with a smile. “But it doesn’t look much like a bear to me.”

“The Greeks originally saw it as a dog, which would explain the long tail. Another story is that the bear was spun around the pole by its tail, causing it to stretch. Even before that it was believed to be the wing on top of another constellation, Draco, ‘the dragon.’” He pointed her towards a long chain of stars beneath Ursa Minor. “Over here, this clump of stars is Ursa Major, which contains the Big Dipper. This one is especially handy because the two stars furthest from the handle, if you follow them over, lead you right towards Polaris again.”

“Why is Polaris so important?” she asked, leaning back against him. He lowered his head down, his mouth close to her ear, and wrapped his other arm around her.

“Polaris never moves, and if you were standing directly at the North Pole, all the other constellations would revolve around it. But as long as you are anywhere in the northern hemisphere you can use Polaris to determine your latitude, by measuring the angle it makes with the horizon.” His voice dropped to a whisper, as he lifted the weight of her curls and moved them aside, uncovering the satin skin of her neck for his greedy mouth to devour.

She turned in his embrace and lifted herself up on to her toes to better reach his lips, her hands splayed across his back. His lips devoured hers as he clutched her even tighter against his hard body. She gasped, but continued to kiss him. Nor did she complain when his fingers began exploring the sensitive flesh beneath her collarbone, and when he ducked his head to lavish kisses along it, she let her head fall backwards with a moan. He tugged the front of her chemise to expose her breasts, which he immediately covered with his large callused hands, while his relentless tongue explored the depths of her mouth.

His erection was straining at the front of his breeches, and as if understanding the primal need that coursed through his veins, Amber pressed her hips against him, making him even more wild with need. His hands left her breasts to roam her body possessively, grasping at her back, her shoulders, her buttocks.

All of a sudden he broke away. She blinked at him. “What’s the matter?”

“We have to stop, Amber.” Even as the words left his mouth, the storm that raged in his steel grey eyes suggested that he would love nothing more than to continue.

She pressed her body against his. “No, we don’t.”

He shook his head and tried to back away from her, a feat made impossible by their cramped space. “You don’t understand. I have to stop now, because if I don’t…I’ll never be able to. I’m sorry.” Without letting her say another word he lifted himself over the edge of the crow’s nest and descended the mast.

Her body was still painfully responsive, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as she slid her chemise over her breasts, the soft fabric feeling like coarse wool against her taut nipples. She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair and climbed down to the deck, her trembling legs carrying her towards the empty cabin instead of back to the party.

Once inside the room she began pacing, restless and anxious. She knew Logan would have to return to the cabin to go to sleep, so he couldn’t avoid her forever. She would just have to wait for him there.

The flame of reason sparked to life inside her once again, reminding her of her goal of finding a husband. A titled husband, which meant that no matter how strong the physical attraction between her and Logan might be, nothing could ever come of their union. She ignored the warmth that spread throughout her body as she imagined herself marrying Logan, and squashed all reasonable thoughts from her head. She had already made up her mind, and besides, what harm could come of following her infatuation through to its ultimate endpoint? Perhaps letting Logan take her innocence was all it would take to alleviate the fiery need she felt, just once and she would be satisfied. Either way, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She smoothed her hair in the mirror, blew out all the candles except for one, and settled on the bed to wait for Logan’s return.

Abe found Logan sprawled out in the empty longboat, swaying gently on its chains as it hung beside the ship. “Cap’n? Is everything all right?” the cook asked, concern evident in his voice. Logan sat up with a groan. “I’ll take that as a no, then. Is it Miss Amber? I saw you watching her mighty close all night. And I could tell by the way she dressed that she was up to something, am I right?”

“How the hell did you get to be so observant?” mumbled Logan as he stood and jumped onto the deck.

“My mum used to tell me, ‘Abraham, you don’t have good looks and you sure as heck don’t have the brains, so you got to work twice as hard to be a kind, caring person. That’s the only way you’ll get anywhere in this world.’”

“Well, it certainly is a wise thought, if a little blunt. And yes, I’m having problems with Amber.”

“Problems with self-control, I reckon. Not hard to understand, she did look something beautiful tonight. But listen; if you want this lowly cook’s advice, I’d stay away from her until this whole thing has blown over. You can sleep in the galley tonight if you think it’ll help.”

“Thank you, Abe, I might just do that,” Logan said, clapping the man on the back. “I suppose I aught to get my stuff out of the cabin, instead of putting it off any longer.” He said goodnight and strode over to the cabin, hesitating before opening the door.

Inside, the light was dim and a single candle set a soft glow. It took him a few seconds to locate Amber, curled up on top of the blankets and watching him closely. He shut the door. “I just need to collect a few things, and then I’ll be out of your way, I promise.”

She sat up. “You aren’t staying?”

“Not tonight, I’ll…I’ll sleep somewhere else for a few nights.”

“Why? Why can’t you just stay here?”

“Because I can’t trust myself around you,” he explained as he glanced over at her. “I’m sorry, but this is the best way. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight Amber,” he said as he turned to leave.

“Logan?” His hand stilled on the door. “I want you to stay. Please.”

Chapter Sixteen

His heart began thumping wildly in his chest as he made a slow turn towards her. She was kneeling on the edge of the bed now, her cheeks flushed and her vibrant hair glowing in the candlelight. Unable to fight the power of her seductive proposal, he found himself inching towards her. His steps were slow, however, as he waited for her to come to her senses and send him away.

“You do realize what you’re asking of me, don’t you?” She nodded quickly. “Amber, are you sure you want this?”

“I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life.”

“You know that if you change your mind…I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop?” He halted in front of her, afraid to touch her, afraid to break the final boundary that separated them.

“I won’t change my mind.” To prove her point, she took his hand and brought it to her chest, pressing it flat so that he could feel the accelerated rhythm of her heartbeat. “I don’t know what this feeling is…I only know that I feel safe in your arms. My heart races every time I see you, I can’t catch my breath when I’m around you, and I’m on fire whenever you touch me…”

And then he kissed her.

Though she’d been kissed by Logan before, nothing could compare to the heat and ferocity of the way he kissed her now. She clutched the front of his shirt and tilted her head back, allowing him to ravage her mouth. Wanting to feel his skin beneath her hands she clumsily untied the laces that held his shirt closed at the top, and sensing her haste he pulled it over his head, the air cool on his bare skin. A shiver traveled down his body as she ran her fingertips through the course hair on his chest, arching her back against him, needing to feel the warmth of his body against hers. With a savage urgency he tore the red skirt from her waist and threw it to the floor, his mouth never leaving hers, and leaned her backwards onto the bed.

The expression on her face surpassed any of his wild fantasies, and he prayed to god that this wasn’t a dream that he would soon awaken from. As she squirmed beneath him, his fingers expertly undid the tiny hooks on the front of her corset one by one until she was left wearing only her thin chemise. Her rosy nipples peaked under his touch as his knuckles grazed her breasts over the soft fabric, which he wasted no time in stripping off her, letting it whisper to the ground next to her corset.

She felt brazen as she lay naked, trembling in anticipation beneath him. His heated gaze swept over her body, and then he was caressing her, stroking her skin and sending tremors through her veins. His hands were hot, hungry, seeking. He lowered his head to her breast, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, her gasp unheard as blood pounded in his ears, drowning out all other sound. He kissed a path down her stomach as she inhaled sharply, and then he was lifting her leg and kissing her thigh, her knee, her calf, her ankle, the arch of her foot, his mouth leaving a trail of moisture that chilled in the humid air. She closed her eyes to his assault, the terrible ache inside of her growing more and more urgent with each brush of his lips against her skin. She tried to pull him against her, her hands reaching for the front of his pants, but he stopped her with a chuckle.

“Be patient, sweetheart,” he whispered against her burning skin, “it’s better if you wait.” But she didn’t want to wait; she wanted the fulfillment that only he could give her. Again she tried to untie his breeches, and again he stopped her, this time bringing both her hands above her head. He gave her a wicked smile and ran a hand along the curve of her body, relishing the feeling of her quivering against him as he teased her.

“Please don’t make me beg, Logan,” she rasped.

“Well, now there’s an idea. I think you’d look very appealing on your hands and knees…but since you did ask nicely…”

And then he brought his head to hers for a passionate kiss, his fingers hovering at the apex of her legs, hesitating before dipping into the slick moisture. She cried out, overwhelmed as a wave of desire passed through her. She opened her eyes to see him watching her, a look of complete concentration on his face, his grey eyes stormy with seductive promise. “Is this what you wanted Amber?” She dropped her head in consent as he continued his blissful torture, her hips lifting of their own accord and giving him access as he lowered his face between her legs.

She had barely enough time for the shock to register before his tongue darted out and took possession of her, flicking against her throbbing bud, his fingers still sliding inside of her. Embarrassment washed over her at being so exposed, and she tried to push him away. He resisted, and her next objection died before it reached her lips as the familiar heat spread to her toes. She clung to him and buried her hands in his thick hair, urging him on.

And then the inferno inside her ruptured, and she rode the wave of pleasure as sensation after sensation spiraled through her, taking her to a precipice she could only have imagined. A cry escaped her as she fought to hold on to the last tremors of ecstasy.

Logan wordlessly slid from the bed and removed first his boots, and then his breeches. The sight of him, raw and naked, so male and ready for her made her feel wanton and primal, and she opened her arms to him. He came to her on the bed and she sidled up alongside him.

Her fingertips stroked his chest as his eyes followed her every movement. She looked pensive.

He caught her chin in his hand and turned her face to look at him. “What is it?”

“I want…” she trailed off.

“Sweetheart, tell me,” he said gently, gazing into her troubled eyes.

“I want to make you feel like I did,” she admitted, a flush rising from her neck to cover her cheeks. He cocked an eyebrow.

“You do?”

“More than anything.”

“Then touch me.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know how,” she confessed, and then flushed even redder as he began laughing. “It’s not funny! What if I don’t do it right?”

He shook his head, still smiling at her. “You’re lying here naked and you’re worried about not knowing how to touch me? Amber, every time you place your hands on my body you’re doing something very, very right.”

“Really?”

“I give you my word.”

“What about when I do this…” she mumbled against his shoulder as she began feathering kisses against his bronzed skin. “Or this…” her hand slid over his taut stomach, moving lower and tangling in his short, dark hair. “What about this?” she asked as her fingers brushed his heavy arousal. It jerked at the sudden touch and she withdrew, then tentatively wrapped her palm around him, his breath increasing with every touch.

He felt like silken steel against her hand, and her eyes took on a triumphant gleam as she stroked him gently at first, and then harder and faster as he pushed himself against her palm. “My god, Amber, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he growled, the tendons in his neck visibly straining, his muscles vibrating.

Without warning he grabbed her hand and flipped her over onto her back, kissing the surprised gasp from her mouth. “I can’t let you tease me too much, my little siren, or our time together will be brief. And I’ve waited far too long to lose a single minute with you.”

He lowered himself above her, his arms braced on either side of her head and shaking with restraint. “God, you feel so ready,” he said, his voice hoarse as he positioned himself between her legs. She shut her eyes, her need overpowering. He parted her curls with his fingers and guided himself into her slick entrance. “Amber, look at me.”  She met his gaze and saw the tender regret in his face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smiled. “You could never hurt me.”

“I only hope you can say that with certainty when this is over,” he said, and without another word broke through the tight barrier that blocked his entrance, and buried himself inside her. There was a blinding flash of pain, but it passed and left her with a throbbing soreness and a strange, but not unwelcome feeling of fullness. “I promise that it’ll be better next time,” he said, his eyes never breaking from her face, looking for any sign of regret.

She experimentally shifted her hips, pleased to find that the discomfort eased somewhat. “It doesn’t hurt much now,” she assured him, “It just aches a little bit.”

“I can help you forget that,” he said as he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her and claiming all that they had been denying for so long. Buried to the hilt inside of her, he was aware only of the joining of their bodies and the insatiable need growing in him, and with painstaking gentleness he began moving. He had been right; any thoughts of pain were erased from her mind, as the slow heat began building once again. With a now recognizable sensation, she welcomed him inside her, stretching her, filling her completely. Her arms lifted to his shoulders, nails biting into his flesh as he entered and withdrew again and again, all with agonizing self-control.

She whimpered at his mercilessness, needing more of him, deeper, harder. Lifting her hips with each thrust, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her. It was at this moment that Logan lost all hope of restraint, and he drove into her fiercely, swallowing her cries of pleasure as he raised her arms above her head and intertwined their fingers. The rhythm of their lovemaking was erratic and urgent, as Amber lost herself to the impossible friction. Higher and higher she rose until the earth around her exploded in a mind-shattering release, her body convulsing and her muscles contracting around him.

Logan groaned low in his throat as he clenched his jaw and watched her climax, overwhelmed by her passionate beauty. Indeed, her body was glowing with desire beneath him as he came close to his own release. His thrusts came harder, went deeper as he surrendered to the madness, her name pouring from his lips as he shuddered and spilled himself deep within her, fusing their bodies and losing himself in her arms.

He collapsed on top of her, drained of energy and sated beyond belief. As they lay there, chest to chest, their twin heartbeats slowly began to return to normal. At last Logan withdrew, leaving Amber with an unexplained sense of loss, and rolled off of her, climbing from the bed and walking towards the opposite side of the room. She turned to her side and watched him as he took a cloth from the dresser and dipped it into the bucket of water that she had never removed from earlier in the evening.

It seemed such a long time ago to her, she realized with a start, that she had been seething with anger at the very man who now approached her with compassion in his eyes. He settled onto the bed and instructed her to lie on her back, then began to wash the blood from her thighs. As the cool cloth touched her sensitive flesh between her legs she jumped a little and hissed a breath, her mouth parting as she watched his careful hands. His erection stirred at her reaction, and her eyes widened with shock.

“Again?” her voice sounded her disbelief at his quick recovery. He laughed.

“Not right now, sweetheart, you need to rest.”

“I’m not tired,” she assured him, until a traitorous yawn gave away her exhaustion. He finished cleaning her and tossed the rag across the room, then lifted her limp body so that he could pull down the blankets and place her back into the bed. He climbed in beside her and covered them both as she snuggled against him, her head resting on his chest. His arm wrapped around her and he pulled her tight.

“Good night, love,” he whispered against her hair as he kissed the top of her head, and they both drifted off to sleep.

Logan was asleep in his bed, dreaming once again of Amber. In this particular fantasy, she was stretched out alongside him, her head resting in the nook between his shoulder and chest, a leg draped over his. A contented sigh slipped from her lips, still swollen from his kisses the night before. Her sinful hands began roving the hard planes of his naked body, leaving a burning trail where her skin scorched his. His arousal sprang to life as her fingertips grazed the thick length of him, and he moaned.

A sudden knock at the door pulled him into a semi-somnolent state. “Go away, Marcus,” he grumbled as he returned to his pleasant dream, where the angelic redhead was waiting for him. As he tugged her body closer to his own, he heard her giggle. Logan quickly rolled on top of her and opened his heavy eyes. Beneath him, Amber’s gaze was locked on his.

“Are you a dream?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in his throat.

She smiled at him and shook her head. “I’m very much real,” she replied. “Were you dreaming about me?”  He threw back the blankets to real the evidence of his reverie.

Amber viewed it with a mixture of apprehension and longing as she pulled herself to her feet. “Why are you dressed?” he asked her, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “And who was at the door?”

“I woke up a little while ago, so I went down to the galley and asked Abe to drop off some breakfast for us,” she explained while she cleared the table and retrieved the tray from outside the door. “I also requested that hot water be brought up, so that you might bathe. I know you didn’t get a chance last night, what with everything that happened…” she blushed.

He finished pulling on his breeches and approached the table, scanning the food selection. There were fruit, pastries, bread with jelly and two steaming cups of coffee. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” He gave her a brief embrace, kissed her on the cheek and sat down to eat. Cutting into an overripe apple, he offered her half. She wrinkled her nose and declined, reaching instead for a piece of hard toast.

“Amber, we should probably talk about what happened between us.”

“What is there to talk about?”

His voice softened. “How are you feeling this morning?

“Perfectly fine, despite some lingering soreness.”

“That’s good, but that’s not what I was referring to.”

“If you’re wondering about whether I regret my actions, the answer is no, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“How about the undeniable fact that you are no longer a virgin?  Surely you must have thought about the ramifications of our actions?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Seems to me you weren’t too worried about any ramifications last night. And besides, no one needs to find out.”

“What about your future husband?”

Her face drained of color. “Damn it all, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I suppose I will just have to fake it when the time comes. Some red wine on the sheets, a little feigned discomfort, and he’ll be none the wiser. Besides,” she said with a smile as Anton entered carrying buckets of steaming water, “it sure as hell beats the alternative.”

Logan stood and helped fill the tub, then began undressing. “Which is what?”

“Marrying you.”

“Why would that be so terrible?” he asked as he sank into the water. To his chagrin, Amber burst into laughter. He frowned. “I don’t see what’s so funny about it; it has the potential to work. Can you check and see if there are any more bars of soap in the grey trunk?  They should be under the shaving supplies.”  The soap came whizzing over the screen and landed in the water with a splash. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  They sat in silence on opposite sides of the screen, Amber picking at the remains of breakfast and Logan washing himself. He was trying to rinse the suds off of his back when Amber spoke again:  “You missed a spot.”

“How do you know?” he asked as he tried to twist his head around to see if she was right.

“Because I can clearly see you in the mirror from my seat at the table. Or were you not aware?” she asked, watching his mouth melt into an embarrassed frown.

“So you saw that then,” he mumbled.

“Saw how you tricked me into believing this screen was a gift, and yet it was only a means for your perversion? Yes, I happened to notice that.” She appeared behind the screen, an accusatory expression on her face.

“The truth is I had no knowledge that positioning it there would allow me to watch you.”  She was silent. “When did you discover this?”

“Yesterday.”

He chortled. “I suppose that explains your choice of attire for the evening,” he said, glancing at the red skirt that was still in a ball on the floor by the bed. “But is that why you don’t want to marry me?  You can lock yourself into your very own room with the bathtub if that’s the problem.”

She grabbed the towel from the stool beside the basin and tossed it at him. “That’s not the problem and you know it. We’d be absolutely miserable!”

“Why?” he asked, cleaning off his face with the towel and dropping it onto the floor. “I think we’re well suited enough.”

“Well suited?” she echoed in disbelief. “Logan, you are the single most aggravating man I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Marrying you would be the biggest mistake of my life.”  He reached up and grabbed her forearm, and with a tug pulled her into the water.

“Really, I aggravate you?”  He grinned as she sputtered and flailed, trying to right herself. “I had no idea.”

Her hair was plastered to her face and the look she sent him would have frightened a lesser man, but he stood his ground. “You want to know the real reason I could never marry you?  It’s because you are a pirate!  A despicable scoundrel, a murderous rake, a….”

“Roaming rogue?”

She glared at him. “When we arrive in England I never want to see you again. I’ll return to my peaceful life that existed before you barged in and everything went to hell. I’ll forget all about you, Logan Jeffries.” She tried to stand, but his grip on her wrist prevented her. “Let go of me!”  He ignored her, and instead reached up to brush a piece of wet hair that clung to her cheek, flushed red with anger. Her breath stilled.

“Why are you lying to me, Amber?”

“I’m not lying,” she countered, rather unconvincingly. His hand moved to cradle the back of her head, and before she could offer any resistance, he pulled her down on top of him and kissed her hard. For a moment she forgot all about the argument they had been having, but the intrusion of his tongue into her mouth reminded her. With a cry she pushed against his chest, but for all it was doing he might have well been made of stone, as he paid her no notice. She could feel his arousal between her thighs, and the traitorous need growing inside her.

He would forever recall the exact moment her resolve shattered. She sagged against him and gave into the kiss, throwing her arms around his shoulders. With a triumphant groan he grabbed the wet hem of her chemise, dragged it over her head and threw it aside. A quick perusal of her luscious body reminded him why he couldn’t get enough of this woman. She was silent during his scrutiny, but moaned in pleasure as he lifted her hips and lowered her onto his hard length. She sank down, relishing in the feel of him inside her, surrounded by the warm water that helped facilitate his entry without hurting her bruised flesh.

Logan reclined in the tub, his eyes glued to the angel who now sat atop him. His large hands were splayed upon the small of her back, and without a word of question, Amber listened to the insatiable hunger within her and began moving. He bared his teeth in response to the sensations he was experiencing. Unable to remain a casual observer he lifted his hands to her full breasts, cupping them as she continued to rock against him.

“Am I doing this right?” she asked him with a coy smile, knowing from his expression that she was.

“Yes, you little minx, you’re doing everything right. But if you stop right now, I will kill you.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on stopping.”  She flipped her hair back and increased her rhythm, using her hands to brace herself against his broad chest.

Mesmerized by her unbridled passion, he watched in amazement as she closed her eyes and moaned, increasing her speed even further. Every movement was untutored and yet far from unskilled, and he rejoiced, not for the first time, in the knowledge that he was the only one who had seen this sensual woman totally uninhibited. He lifted his hips, driving himself even deeper into her and bringing her over the edge. With a cry, she clawed at his skin and her muscles clenched around him, causing his own staggering release. She fell forward, his arms moving to cradle her quivering body against his own.

Amber lay in the tepid water, collapsed against his chest until she was confident her shaking legs would be able to support her weight. Still she wobbled a little as she stood.

“Will it always be like that?”

“With me it will,” he replied with a cocky smile. She decided to ignore him as she crouched to retrieve her soaking chemise from the floor. Logan whistled at the sight of her naked form bent at the waist. “Amber, how can you even blame me for watching you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are absolutely, without a doubt, head-to-toe breathtakingly beautiful.”  Surprised, she scanned his face for a sign of sarcasm, but seeing none, she was touched.

“Oh, well, thank you. That means a lot,” she confessed. She was going to say more, but at that moment, Logan rose from the tub.

He noticed her silence and followed her appreciative gaze. He chuckled. “Maybe the real reason you were so upset is because you wish you had discovered the mirror first, so that you could exploit it as much as I did.”  She threw open the lid of her trunk and pulled out a fresh pair of breeches and a clean shirt. Laying them on the table, she reached for her dagger and tossed it into the air, catching it by the hilt and spinning it. “What are you doing with that?” he inquired as he tugged on his pants.

“Contemplating your death,” she told him. “I was thinking I would tell your men that you couldn’t support your giant ego and you collapsed under the weight. It was a tragic accident, but I have to say, I saw it coming.”

“Oh, very funny.”

“I do try.”

“You wouldn’t kill me, anyway. You’d miss me too much.”

“That’s a big assumption on your part,” she said as she slid into her shirt and pulled her hair back from her face with a leather tie. “I meant to ask you, who’s Marcus?”  She thought she saw him falter, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Why do you ask?”

“When you were asleep earlier and Abe knocked, you said ’go away, Marcus.’”

He relaxed. “He was just my roommate at school. He would always have to wake me up in the mornings so I wouldn’t miss my classes.”  Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Opening it, they were met with the sight of Deacon holding Johnny by a handful of shirt.

“There’s something you need to be seeing, Captain,” he grunted as he shoved the boy towards the hatch. Logan glanced at Amber and shrugged, and they both followed the men down into the hold.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“It started when we noticed food had gone missing. Thinking it might be rats or Creed getting hungry in the middle of the night, I hid and waited, and that’s when I saw the boy.”  He gave Johnny a second push. “Come on, show em what I saw.”  With a somber expression, Johnny put two fingers into his mouth and gave a curt whistle. Amber startled as something large and furry rubbed against her legs. Looking down, she gasped in surprise.

“Tybalt?” Incredulous, she scooped the cat into her arms.

“I don’t know who Tybalt is, I’ve just been callin’ her Daisy.”

“Tybalt is from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet,” she explained to Johnny. “They called him the prince of cats. And besides, Daisy is a girl’s…” she trailed off as a quiet mewing came from behind a crate. The cat leapt from her hold and jumped out of sight, reappearing with a tiny calico kitten in her mouth.

“Unless Shakespeare wrote anything about a princess of cats, I think Daisy’s a more fitting name,” Pax observed from the doorway. Three trips later and Daisy, the princess of cats, had carried out a whole brood of crying kittens.

“How did the cat get on the boat, Johnny?”  Logan asked.

“I didn’t do it, I swear!” the boy defended. “She must have snuck on. I found her down here, and when she had the babies I just took to bringing her food and water, on account of she can’t leave em all alone because they’re always getting into trouble.”

“Logan,” Amber cut in,” in all fairness he, I mean she, probably just followed us back from the inn. Don’t chastise him.”

“Yeah, don’t chastise me!”

Logan rubbed his temples to subdue his headache. “You mean to tell me that this cat snuck onto a heavily guarded pirate ship, unnoticed, stowed away, and gave birth to four kittens?”

“Well, nine.”

“Nine!?”

“Don’t worry, they don’t eat much. And Henry and I have been taking shifts watching the little ones so Daisy can hunt.”

“Wait, hunt? What does she hunt?”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Rats, of course.”

“There aren’t any rats on my ship.”

“Well not anymore, there ain’t.”

Logan groaned as Amber came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “There isn’t anything you can do about it now, so why don’t we just leave them?”

“I can throw them over the side of the damn ship,” he mumbled.

“Just let Johnny take care of them,” she said, picking up the nearest kitten, an orange and brown tabby. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that he kept crucial information, vital to the well-being of this ship, from his captain.”

She snorted. “Vital information?  You’re joking, right?” She dropped her voice to a whisper that only he could hear. “Besides, look how happy Johnny is. Apart from Henry, he’s the only boy on this ship. It’ll do him some good to have a pet to take care of. Didn’t you have any pets when you were a boy?”

He grimaced. “Not a cat, certainly. I don’t like them.”

“What’s wrong with them?”  Johnny demanded.

“They’re sneaky and manipulative creatures, and they always look like their plotting my demise.”

“Oh, now that’s just silly. How could this cute, innocent little kitten be anything but precious?” she asked as she thrust the animal towards his face. Catching it before it could get too close to him, he held it at arms length and stared at it. “Does it look manipulative to you?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

“Liar.”  Logan hid a smile. He had to admit, the little pest was endearing, if not precious. Its scruffy orange hair appeared too long for its tiny body and stuck out in all directions as if it had been struck by lightning. It hung limply in his hands, its tail swishing back and forth and its yellow eyes (like the mother’s, he noticed) were open as wide as dinner plates as the tiny kitten returned his stare.

And then, as if the whole encounter had been scripted, it began to purr. “Oh look, it likes you!” Amber declared as she knelt to tickle another kitten behind its ears. Daisy rubbed against Logan’s legs and with a grunt, he shoved the tabby at Johnny.

“Fine, keep the damn animals, for all I care. But they are your responsibility, you understand me?  You aren’t getting out of your duties, and any food must come from your rations. Keep them down here and out of trouble. If I see a cat on deck I am kicking it overboard.”

Logan glanced at the litter one last time then turned and left, Amber behind him. “You aren’t really going to kick a kitten, are you?” she asked, trying to keep pace with his long strides.

“What do you think?”

“I think, while you have the ability to kill a man, and the strength to command your men, you don’t have it in you to hurt an animal. Especially a poor, defenseless, one.”

“Correct.”

“Well, then why did you tell Johnny that?”

“Because I don’t want them underfoot, getting in the way or distracting my crew. He’ll watch them closer than their own mother will if he believes they are in danger.”

“Clever,” she remarked.

He grinned at her. “I am, aren’t I?”

Chapter Seventeen

“How do you feel about Spain?”

Amber looked up from the pistol she had been cleaning out on the deck “Spain?  I don’t know, I suppose I don’t really support their political system, and I think that while their navigational prowess is impressive, their desire to control the entire world is barbaric.”  She noticed Logan’s stunned face. “What did I say?”

He shook his head with a laugh. “I simply wanted to know if you would mind taking a detour there for a few days.”

“Oh!  I’d love to see Spain,” she said with color rising on her cheeks.

“You know, with all the sun you’ve been getting, your freckles are becoming quite pronounced.”  She quickly lifted her hands to cover her face, but he pulled them away. “Don’t. I think they’re adorable.”

“I’m twenty-three years old. Adorable is hardly a word I enjoy hearing used to describe my physical appearance.”

He leaned in close, his mouth inches away from her ear. “Dozens of other words come to mind when I think about you. Why don’t you put that gun away and I’ll tell you some of them.”

Despite the shiver that coursed down her spine at his proposal, she forced herself to look contrite as she pulled the cloth from the muzzle. “I can’t, I’m on pump duty this afternoon.”  She lubricated another section of cloth and rammed it back into the barrel.

“One of the other men can do it, I’m sure.”

“They wouldn’t be happy.”

“They don’t have to be happy; they just have to do it.”

“It’s not their job. It’s mine, and I’m not about to slack off and let it fall to someone else.”  With a clean rag she went about drying the outside of the gun, removing any excess moisture.

“Sweetheart, don’t you think you’ve worked hard enough, and deserve a break?”

”Believe it or not, I actually enjoy the work. It keeps me active and I like the challenge.”

He lifted the pistol from her fingers and turned it over in his hands, inspecting it. “I can think of many other ways to keep you active.”

She snatched the gun from him and slid it into the waistband of her pants. “I’m sure you could. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get below deck.”

He grabbed her arm. “God damn it, Amber, why does everything have to be so bloody difficult? Are you truly too proud to surrender this ridiculous notion you must act like a pirate?  Why can’t you simply forget about it, and enjoy the rest of the journey with me—”

“As your mistress?”  The word came out in a hiss, its very idea leaving a sour taste on her tongue. “Is that really all I am to you?”

“You’re putting words into my mouth. I’m just trying to explain to you that you have nothing to prove.”

“Well you just convinced me that I do.”  Conscious of the stares they were receiving she stepped forward, her chin tilted at a severe angle so that she could look up at him. “And just so we are clear, I may have given into my baser instincts last night but in no way was that an invitation to try and control my every action. Nothing has changed.”

“Like hell it hasn’t.”

“Is there something wrong?”  Eli asked with a pointed glance at the men who had stopped working to observe the argument, stepping aside as Amber stalked away.

“Of course not, she’s made herself abundantly clear.”

“I must admit, Logan, your mood swings are becoming so turbulent, even I don’t know what to expect,” Eli said, giving his friend a curious stare.

“My mood swings? Ha!”

“It’s not like you to let a woman get under your skin like this.”

“Yes, well she’s crawled her way under there and sunk her little claws in deep. And there she stays, leechlike, to arouse me and infuriate me in rapid succession. I can’t understand why she insists on working when she knows I am capable of taking care of her.”

“Good lord, man, are you daft?  Stop trying to keep her on a leash if you desire a civil relationship with the girl. Leave well enough alone.”

“But she is exerting herself for naught—”

“That is so far from the point, it’s a wonder you’ve bedded as many women as you say. Just let her calm down, and then try treating her like one of your men.” Their attention was drawn to Amber, who ascended the steps lugging a heavy coil of rope that was saturated with water from the bilge, and spread it out on the deck to dry in the sun. After wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, she climbed back down. “Though I can see why you find it difficult to treat her as anything but the woman she is.”

Below deck, Amber stood ankle deep in water, straining to work the pump. Murmuring angrily under her breath, she let loose a string of colorful words she had picked up from the men when they thought she was out of earshot. The work was hard and seemingly endless, but it gave her the chance to work out her frustrations with Logan.

“His mistress, indeed,” she scoffed. But the scene that played in her imagination was alluring, and she couldn’t deny the strong urge to submit to the fantasy. Because that’s all it could ever be: a fantasy.

The vivid images of Logan and herself, sailing to far away places, exploring the deserts and lush jungles of uncharted lands, making love on the white sand of a Caribbean isle as the surf crashed upon the shore, all passed through her mind. Visions of Logan looking devastatingly handsome on the deck of the Imperial Shadow, the crew silent as Elijah read from a worn leather bible. As the sun sank below the horizon they would kiss, and the men would stand and cheer for their Captain, exchanging ribald comments with one another about the wedding night to follow.

And then, as the evening’s festivities drew to an end, he would lift her into his arms and carry her, glowing in her white dress, across the threshold of his cabin. After laying her on the plush bed, his nimble fingers would stray to the buttons of his dress jacket, one by one…

She yanked herself from the daydream before it could continue. The trouble was, Logan’s comments earlier hadn’t upset her because they were scandalous, but because it was all too easy to envision herself happy in that role. For her, the previous night’s activities had been life altering, and not only because she had so willingly surrendered her innocence. It was because besides her parents, Logan was the first person to embrace her passionate nature. He encouraged her to explore her hedonistic inner self, to forget about responsibilities and live in the moment. Whether his liberation had been intentional or an accidental result of his seduction, she knew she would always hold a place in her heart for the rugged pirate.

A soft splashing drew her attention towards the narrow stairwell, where a black kitten sat on the bottom step, his white paws swiping at the curious liquid that filled the bottom of the ship. Uncertain of how it would act next, Amber watched it out of the corner of her eye as she worked hard to make up for the moments lost in dreaming.

The kitten paced the bottom step, stalking what she could only assume was his own reflection. Then he paused with his rear in the air, and with a little wiggle pounced from the safety of the stairs and into the murky water.

Leaving the pump unattended she dove forward to snatch the flailing, caterwauling animal, drenching her own clothes in the process. The kitten, associating Amber with security and dryness, clawed his way up her arm to settle upon her shoulder, shaking with fright. There it rode as she pushed open the door to the cargo hold.

Johnny rushed towards her with an apologetic frown, begging her not to report his negligence to Logan. The kitten now refused to climb down from his perch into Johnny’s outstretched hands, and instead dug his sharp claws deeper into her flesh. “Get me a cloth,” she directed, while extracting the imbedded nails with care, and tugging the cat down against her chest. Henry handed her a clean rag and she swaddled it up like a babe, cradling it until it ceased shaking.

“Are you going to tell the Captain?”

Her gaze transferred from the kitten to Henry. “Why would I do that?”

It was Johnny who answered. “We just figured that since you’re sharing his bed and all, you wouldn’t keep nothing secret from him.” Amber was certain that her earlier blush at Logan’s teasing did not come close to the crimson color that crept up her face now.

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk about that stuff, Johnny,” Henry said, noticing her blazing cheeks.

“Where did you hear this?”

“When I was in the galley getting food for the kittens, I overheard Abe tellin’ Eli that the Cap’n went into his cabin last night and never came back out like he was supposed to.”

“And is that all they said?”

“No, they was also guessing as to if he got around to bedding you," he told her, meeting her her gaze directly. “Abe said he didn’t think he would, but Eli claimed he knew the Cap’n better than Abe did, and he told him that Logan’s been itching to bed you since we took down the Queen Charlotte and you tried to slap him. What?” He threw up his hands at Henry’s reproachful stare. “She said she wanted to know.”

“It’s…fine. Now here,” she said quickly, shoving the kitten at the boy, “take Puck and make sure he stays out of trouble this time,”

“Puck?”

“Yes, it’s from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He was the mischievous fairy who got into all sorts of trouble, so it seemed appropriate, and I’ve always named animals after Shakespeare’s characters.”

“Is he the fellow who wrote Romeo and Judy?”

“Juliet, and yes,” she answered, giving him an inquisitive look. “Johnny, do you know how to read?”

He shook his head. “Never had the chance to learn. I took to the seas as soon as I was tall enough, and my mum didn’t know so she couldn’t teach me.”

“What about you Henry?”

“I learned a little bit from my brothers,” he told her. “I’m not the most skilled, but I can read and write enough to manage.”

She smiled as an idea occurred to her. “Boys, I’ve decided not to tell Logan about Puck’s little adventure on one condition: Henry, you will teach Johnny the alphabet and how to write his name. I think you’ll find reading to be an enjoyable escape from your dull duties, and maybe I’ll even lend you a few of my books. Do we have a deal?”

Johnny thought hard for a moment, then with a look at Henry, who nodded, he spit into his hand and extended it. “Deal.”

Amber laughed. “How about we skip the handshake?” 

He shrugged and wiped the saliva onto his pants. “You aren’t going to tell the Cap’n about me not being able to read, are you?”

“You know, Johnny, for a kid who respects the Captain as much as I know you look up to Logan, you certainly are keeping enough secrets from him.”

“That’s why I don’t want him to know, because I just know he’ll be ashamed of me. If he knew how dumb I really am he’d dismiss me from the crew, and sailin’ is all I know.”

“You aren’t dumb,” Henry assured him. Johnny looked doubtful.

“He’s right, you’re clever and loyal, traits that Logan admires in his men. And I’m sure you’re not the only one who never learned to read. But if it makes you feel better, I won’t tell him about the cat or the lessons, if you think you can hide it from him.” Henry grinned and began eagerly planning his first lesson aloud, but he had no audience. Johnny was eyeing Amber strangely.

“Maybe I was wrong about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“At first I thought you was just a meddling woman, gettin’ in the way and putting the Cap’n into foul moods. But you learned how to fight and you’re doing work just like the rest of us, and you’re being kind to me, even though most folks don’t pay me a bit of attention.”

“You’re a good boy, Johnny, you just need to think about what you’re about to say, and whether or not it should be said at all. Honesty is admirable, but so is keeping your mouth shut sometimes. Do you understand?”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

That evening, while finishing off the turtle soup, Amber listened in amusement as Eli and Logan entertained the table with tales of their meeting. She was coming to learn that in addition to being a commanding force when leading his men, he was also skilled in captivating his audience. Noah, Piers, Jackson, Ben, and Amber all hung on his every word. They laughed at the funny parts, gasped when the story took an unexpected turn, and were utterly charmed by his presence.

“So there Eli was, standing there with a broken nose and blood pouring down his face, ready to kill me, when the innkeeper tells me it was all a huge misunderstanding. Elijah here hadn’t robbed my room, but this other, burly looking brute had broken into his room.”

“It had nothing to do with Logan,” Eli added, “but because the message got mixed up, he had already swung at me and broken my damn nose!”

Logan laughed. “Needless to say, I felt pretty terrible, but I was also impressed. Larger men had crumpled beneath my fist before, and yet this skinny young kid had stood his ground, staggering slightly but jumping back up, ready to brawl. So, to make it up to him, I helped him fight this ogre of a man and together we were able to wear him down until he confessed where he had stashed Eli’s stuff. Then I offered Eli a position on my ship, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“And my nose hasn’t been straight since that first day,” Eli mumbled as he ran a finger over the crooked bridge, pretending to be bothered that it wasn’t perfect, and drawing another laugh from his audience.

The door opened and Abe stuck his head in. “You wanted me to inform you when the men were almost done eating, Cap’n?”

“Yes, thank you Abe.”  Logan stood, extending his hand towards the door. “Gentlemen, if you would like to join me in the orlop, I have some things I want to say, and I’d prefer for everyone to hear. Amber, you too.”

Eli waited for Amber to stand, and then took her arm and led her from the room. “Has Logan mentioned anything to you about this meeting?”

“No, I’m just as in the dark as you are.” They entered the berth deck, and as Logan took his place in the center of the room, Eli led Amber towards the first table. Anton shifted over for them, and they both sat down and watched Logan.

“Men, and Amber,” he added, winking in her direction, “I ask for a few moments of your time. Please, continue to eat, what I have to say is not so important that you should go hungry. In less than two weeks time we will be docking in Costa de Morte, on the Northwestern coast of Spain. We seek Antonio Castaños Mendoza, known to his enemies as The Butcher. He frequents the small village of Caión, which is where we seek information regarding the location of his ship, la Rosa de la Muerte.

“The Death Rose?” Amber translated.

He nodded. “He will most likely hide the ship along the treacherous coast, which is surrounded by cliffs and caves, so unless we have the exact location it will be impossible to find. Nevertheless, we are going to put an end to the long reign of tyranny of this pirate, and all of Spain will soon fear the name el Tigre!”  The men rose to their feet, whooping and clapping.

Logan waited until they had quieted to continue. “Now, when we arrive, we are going to be as inconspicuous as possible. We will scatter around the town, blending in and listening for information, which will be obtained not by force, but by trickery and,”—his eyes met Amber’s— “seduction. No blades will be drawn until we board his ship, but when that moment arrives it will demand all of your skill, all of your patience, and all of your luck. His men are ruthless fighters, but I know we have the intelligence and the skills to win. But, too long have we been at sea, comfortable in our relative safety and forgetting what it is to be a pirate, which is why I have planned a competition. The winner will receive two times his normal pay for one year, and will be relieved from swabbing and pump duty for six months.”

Excitement filled the room, as the men talked loudly to one another. Pax stood. “What is the competition, Captain?”

“One week from today, you will be fighting amongst yourselves to determine the most skilled among my crew. You have these seven days to practice and prepare yourself, and when the time comes you will be matched up, and the winners of the first fights will then fight each other, and those winners will be paired, and so on, until we have an ultimate champion. The conditions are as follows: you may not, under any circumstances, shirk your normal duties to prepare for this competition. If I see you doing so, you will not be allowed to compete. Second, and most important, you must help each other to train. For one man alone is a soldier, but a well trained army stands a much better chance at bringing down the enemy. Have I made myself clear?” A chorus of nods and affirmations met him, and he smiled at them. “I’ll leave you to it then, as I’m certain at least a few of you will want to get some work done before the sun sets. Have a good evening, men.”

Amber trailed after Logan in silence as he returned to the cabin. Shutting the door behind her, she watched him push the dirty dishes aside and unroll the maps on the table. His shoulders were hunched forward as he examined their course, straightening as he retrieved a round magnifying glass from the dresser and curving again as he bent over to view it more closely. “What’s bothering you, Amber?” he asked in a quiet voice, raising his head.

“The competition,” she started, and then hesitated. “Am I allowed to compete alongside the men?”  Her tone suggested that she already knew the answer, and she was disappointed. So it surprised her when he told her that she could.

“After all, you are a member of the crew,” he explained with a crooked smile. With a shriek she ran forward and threw herself at him, sending him tumbling backwards with a laugh, his arms wrapping around her in a hug. “I take that as a thank you?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The words were muffled against his chest. Then she stood on her toes and kissed him, briefly touching her lips to his. “Thank you,” her voice dropped to a husky whisper, and the look in her eyes was unmistakable. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Captain?”

“What’s that?” His hand snaked around her waist and tugged her closer.

With a laugh she twisted free of him, ducking under his arm. “That I have a lot of practicing to do. Come on!” He rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be led back out onto the main deck where, as he had predicted, most of the crew had gathered. The sounds of men grunting and wood hitting wood were deafening, but the noise quieted as Logan approached.

“Elijah,” he turned towards the quartermaster, who had been standing by the mast giving advice to Deacon. “Fetch both of our cutlasses.” Weapons were put aside as the men watched Logan strip off his shirt and fling it towards Amber with a grin. He began pacing. “In this competition, you will be using your own weapons. No tipped foils, no wooden blades. You must be comfortable with the feel of your own sword in your hand—it must be effortless, it must become an extension of your arm.” With ease he caught the sword that Eli cast towards him and motioned for his friend to draw his own cutlass. They stood opposite each other, and following Logan’s lead, commenced a series of fluid movements. Blades were spun in the air, tossed back and forth between the men, and came to meet in the center with loud clangs that echoed across the empty ocean.

The dangerous glint of steel flashing in the rays of the setting sun was hypnotic, as these instruments of death were handled with the ease that a child might afford a bunch of apples he was juggling. Every person watching in awe was aware of the fatal damage the sharpened edges could inflict, and they followed each action with anxious anticipation, fearful that either man would slip up or interrupt the perfect timing. But Logan and Eli were confident and skilled, and only increased the speed of their deadly dance.

“Each match will end when first blood is drawn,” Logan explained, not missing a beat. “This will test your true skill with a blade, because anyone can cut down another man, but it takes a master…” he suddenly stepped out of the rhythm and lunged towards his friend, stopping when the tip of his sword was a hair’s breath away from impaling his heart, “to know when to hold back.”

Amber let her shoulders relax, realizing only now that her whole body had tensed up during the mock melee. She saw that Eli had complete faith in Logan’s ability, the fraction of air separating the blade from his flesh not disturbing him in the slightest. One would think that the sword had been harmless, the way Eli laughed as the tip was lowered to the ground. With a flourish, they bowed to each other and sheathed their weapons.

“I want you all to understand that I am not condoning violence amongst my men, and that if you maim or kill each other, you will be held responsible. It is essential to learn the control it takes to fight, a control that can only be learned by endless practicing. But with that control comes the confidence that you can handle any situation that you may face. You must always think one step ahead of your opponent, anticipate his next move, but be prepared to alter your course of action if he alters his. There is no shame in taking him by surprise. In fact, more fights than I can count have been won by doing something unexpected.”  With cat-like grace he pulled a knife from his boot and hurled it through the air towards the mast, slicing through the line that held up the rope ladder. It dropped, ensnaring several men before they could move out of its way. “If you can end a fight quickly, it is best to do so. Long, drawn out altercations only leave room for mistakes, and mistakes can be fatal when you’re dealing with ruthless men wielding treacherous weapons. Get the job done fast. And then get the hell out of there. There is no place for heroism in the reality of battle, so discard that notion before it gets you killed. The only valor that comes with this life is surviving each fight one at a time. Now,” he said as his mouth curved into a smirk, “who wants to take me on?”

By the time the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and the lamps had all but burnt out, Amber was drenched in sweat and shaking from exhaustion. She had sparred with several of the men without rest, and she was left alone on the deck with Jackson. He, too, was out of breath and tired, and he begged her several times to call the match a tie.

“A few more minutes, that’s all,” she huffed as she leapt back to avoid a downward cut, swinging her own blade up in a wide arc that sent Jackson spinning on his heels.

“Amber, can’t we finish this tomorrow?”

She parried a blow and dropped to her knees, swinging the sword around to hit the back of his legs, knocking him off balance. He fell, and she was on him in a moment with her wooden blade pressed against his abdomen. “No need to.” She heard clapping, and when she turned she saw Logan standing in the doorframe of his cabin.

“Impressive, both of you. Jackson, you should have let her win twenty minutes ago. You look as though you’re about to collapse.” Jackson hoisted himself to his feet with a grunt, gave Amber a playful bow, and then hobbled off to get cleaned up for bed. “I had Abe draw yet another bath for you, so you better hurry or it will be cold.”

She accepted his offer without hesitation, and the moment the warm water touched her sore muscles she allowed herself to relax. “I can’t help but notice that you haven’t removed the screen.”

“I wanted you to have the option of privacy.”  She slid down farther to dunk her head under the water, groaning as her shoulders resented the sudden movement. “Is everything all right over there?”

“Yes, I’m fine, but I think I may have strained something in my back. Hey…what are you doing?” She tried to cover her nakedness as he knelt besides the tub.

“Lean forward.”

“So much for my privacy,” she scoffed, but she obeyed him nevertheless. His fingers began kneading the knots from her tense muscles, and she began to loosen up. Her hands fell to her lap, her head dropping onto her chest.

“Work yourself a little too hard today?” Her response was a low moan as he massaged a kink from her neck, and he chuckled. “I’ll take that as a resounding yes. You know, you should really stretch before engaging in physical activity. It helps relieve some of the stress you are putting on your muscles, and lessens the chance that you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Thank you, Doctor Logan.” She winced as his fingers dug deep into her back. “All right fine, I’ll stretch. Happy now?”

“Immensely.” His hands, having loosened her muscles enough to abate her discomfort, began moving slower, his touch softer. She was defenseless against his tender caresses, and her body began reacting to him, pushing back against his hands, her breaths becoming more ragged. Then she was being lifted from the bath, drops raining from her body and splashing back into the soapy water.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice a feeble protest against the tumultuous storm raging inside her.

“I refuse to make love to you in a bathtub twice in a single day, it just isn’t gentlemanly.”

“You’re…we’re going to make love again?” she stumbled over the words as he deposited her in the center of the large bed, and stopped to remove his boots.

He looked up from his task. “Unless you don’t want to?”  She faltered, and he sent her a wicked grin. “I didn’t think so.”  He shed the rest of his clothes.

“Now wait just one moment,” she said, scurrying away from him as he placed a knee onto the mattress and lifted himself up. He froze midway through his action, suspended as if time had stopped moving, one leg hanging off the bed. She was confused. “Now what are you doing?”

“I’m waiting, just like you requested.”

She tried to stay serious, but a giggle escaped from between her pursed lips. “And how long will you remain immobile like this?” she inquired, as she plucked a long white feather from the down pillow and dragged it against his jaw line.

“Until you request me to move again, my lady.”

“So you will stay completely, totally still?”

“If that is your desire.”

“Hm, I like the sound of that,” she mused aloud as she trailed the feather down his chiseled chest, noting the restraint he displayed to not respond to the silky touch of down against his bare skin. She almost detected a tiny shiver travel through his abdomen, but not enough to declare a victory. So she began to tickle him lower…

“I thought you weren’t going to move,” she said with a smirk as she watched his body react to her stimulating touch. Glancing upwards she saw his eyes cloud over as he fought the impossible urge to keep from touching her. “Oh, I’m becoming familiar with that look,” she murmured, delighting in her provocation. “But how shall you react if I do this?”  The feather floated to the floor as she wrapped a small hand around the base of his rigid length, his eyes smoldering as they followed her movements. Her touch was unschooled but dedicated, and his hand twitched against his side, yearning to stop her teasing and take control of the situation.

“Amber, I can’t stand to watch you touch me any longer.”

“Then close your eyes, because I’m not finished and you’re not allowed to move.” He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, wondering if it was a mistake or the best idea he’d ever had to let Amber control him in such a way. What had seemed like playful mischief had turned into excruciating rapture.

And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get any more maddening, he felt the burning heat of her tongue graze the edge of his erection, and he swiftly perished from the pleasure, transcending to heaven. His eyes shot open to see an angel with a halo of fiery red hair kneeling before him with her mouth around him, curiosity driving her to explore him with her sensitive tongue, causing the blood in his veins to boil. This couldn’t be heaven, then, he thought to himself in a haze of desire. Surely this torment was the work of a succubus. But then why did she appear so angelic as she licked her lips and leaned back onto the pillows? “Come to me, my bronze Adonis,” she commanded with a heavenly voice, husky with need. He broke from his static pose and fell forward, burying himself inside of her without hesitation, swallowing her cry as he consumed her mouth with his own.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he thrust inside her savagely, almost as though he were frightened of what would happen if he should stop. She did nothing to prevent him, however. She too was swept away by the wave that crashed on top of them, drowning them in its carnal fury. Merciless and demanding, it cloaked them in a blind haze that drove them towards a shattering release. Faster and faster they moved until the universe crashed all around them, and as they collapsed beside each other the storm that had raged around them began to abate, like the ebbing of the tide after a long night.

Slick with sweat and sated beyond belief, Logan held Amber against his chest and stared at the ceiling. His rapidly beating heart was not distracting enough to keep her from drifting into sleep, however. So tired was she from the day’s activities that she ignored the way her pillow throbbed against her cheek and let her exhausted body carry her into oblivion, leaving Logan awake to contemplate what he was going to do about the woman in his arms.

Chapter Eighteen

“Cap’n, you’d better come quick, I think he might be dead!”  Logan glanced at Henry and considered ignoring the request, as it was most likely an exaggeration of a meaningless brawl, but the fear in the boy’s words and the noise building outside were enough to make him put down his book and reach for his hat.

Outside, he pushed his way through the gathering crowd and groaned. At the center of the array was Amber, standing over a very pale and motionless Pax and wringing her hands. Logan dropped to his knees beside him and pressed his fingers to the side of his neck, relieved when he felt a faint pulse. “He isn’t dead, he’s merely unconscious,” he said as he rose. He scanned the faces of the men around him, and not seeing the doctor, instructed Henry to run and fetch him.

“Should we move him?” Amber asked, a frantic edge to her voice.

“No, we’ll wait until Piers takes a look at him. If he did hurt himself, we don’t want to risk injuring him further. Can you explain to me what occurred?”

“I never expected this to happen. He’ll never forgive me,” she blurted out. Logan took her hand as she met his gaze.

“I know it wasn’t intentional, but please, take a deep breath and tell me.”

“It was my fault, Captain,” Deacon declared as he stepped forward, his mouth set in a grim line. “I thought it would be fun to teach the men how to wrestle, like we did when I was a lad. The goal is to throw your opponent onto the ground, flat on his back.”

“Cornish wrestling?”  Deacon nodded. “I’m familiar with the sport, but don’t you need jackets to mark four points on the body?”  Amber spun around to reveal the charcoal marks between her shoulder blades and above her hips. “Very enterprising.”

“Anyway, Pax was sparring Miss Amber, and he flipped her over. But me and Jackson and David were judging, and David said he saw her land on all four pins, er, marks. That would make Pax the winner. But Jackson and I only saw three pins hit the ground, meaning she didn’t land flat on her back, meaning Pax didn’t win. So things got pretty heated up, and then Amber caught him off balance and hoisted him over her shoulder like I taught her.”

“Except when he fell, he hit his head on the deck,” Logan guessed. Amber nodded.

The anxious men cleared a path for Piers, who shuffled forward with a leather medical case. He replaced Logan at the young man’s side and proceeded to check his pulse, listen to his heartbeat, and look at his eyes. “Well, his pupils are dilating, which means he is still responsive to light, and his heart rate hasn’t slowed. I’m guessing he should wake up shortly.”

“And will he be all right?” Logan asked for Amber’s sake.

“Do you mean will there be any long-term, irreversible damage? Unlikely. The brain is well protected, that’s why we have such thick skulls. The worst he’ll have to deal with are some headaches here and there, but I have some laudanum in my trunk. A drop or two in a cup of hot tea and the pain should go away.”

Relief washed over Amber as Pax’s eyes fluttered open, blinking against the sunlight. He groaned and lifted a hand to his head. “What happened?”

“The doc said that your thick head saved your ass,” Deacon explained with a laugh.

“But did I beat her?”

Amber glanced at Logan. “Yes,” they answered together.

“You’re both liars and you bloody well know it. That’s all right, though,” he stumbled to his feet. “Once I get rid of this damn throbbing we are going to have a fair fight.”

“What about the last fight wasn’t fair?”  Logan asked, sensing Amber tense up beside him.

“I was blinded, plain and simple.”

“By what?”

“Her smile.” Logan rolled his eyes, but Amber only chuckled and leaned in to give Pax a kiss on his cheek. “Now I’m starting to feel faint again.”

“Then go lie down, you dolt. You aren’t getting anything else from me,” she told him with a good-natured smile.

“How about one more kiss? You can’t turn down the sick and infirmed, it wouldn’t be very Christian of you.”

“Why don’t you focus on getting well. Then, if you want, we can have another match. And if you behave, I’ll think about letting you win.” With a wink she sashayed off.

“She’s in love with me,” Pax declared whole heartedly as he watched her walk away. Logan cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, believe me, she’ll come around eventually.”

Amber was running through her exercises alone in the orlop when Logan’s voice interrupted her concentration. “Any particular reason you’re hiding down here?”

She stopped attacking her imaginary foe and rested the tip of her blade on the ground, leaning against it as she caught her breath. “I’m not hiding, merely staying out of trouble. I figure I’ve caused enough mayhem for one day.”

“I want you to know that no one holds you accountable for what happened today. The only way to prepare yourself for a battle is by practicing, and you handled yourself admirably. If that had been a real fight, you would have succeeded. An unconscious enemy is better than a conscious one.”

She knew that his joking tone and easy smile were meant to cheer her up, but she stubbornly ignored the attempt. “The simple truth of the matter is that Pax isn’t my enemy, he’s my friend.”

“Amber, you’re sailing with a group of pirates. I’m not surprised that one was injured. In fact, I’m surprised we’ve made it this far without any major accidents. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, broken bones, and concussions are typical occurrences on these ships. Which is why,” he said with a grimace as he pulled something from behind his back, “I want you to wear this whenever you’re fighting with real blades.”

“It’s massive,” she complained once the large shirt was draped over her small frame. “I feel like I’m swimming in it!”

“I’m serious Amber, I want you to wear it. The thickness of the linen will hopefully prevent anything from cutting through to your skin.”

“Who says they will get close enough to even try?” she challenged, grabbing her sword and lunging towards Logan. He sidestepped her thrust and moved behind her extended arm, wrapped one hand around her elbow and another around her wrist, and in one fluid twist broke Amber’s hold on her sword, switched it to his own hand, and had it trained on the pulsing vein in her neck. A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he withdrew and handed her back the weapon.

“That was unfair, you caught me off guard! If I had known you were going to do that I could have prevented it.”

His head fell back and he let loose a deep laugh that echoed in the cavernous room. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to break the bad news, love, but most fighters will try to take you off guard. That’s typically how you win a fight. Lucky for you, however, you have a secret weapon in your arsenal that will confound any foe long enough for you to move in with the winning strike.”

“And what pray tell, is this secret weapon?”

“Your gender.”

“I don’t see how you expect me to use that to my advantage, unless you want me to expose myself to my opponent and startle him?”

He shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s foolproof, but it’s worth a shot. You may try it out on me if you so wish to. I’m always happy to help with training exercises.”

She thought about taking him up on his offer, but as she looked past his shoulder she noticed a ball of black fur with white paws, curled up asleep on a crate, and all thoughts instantly turned to how to get the kitten back to Johnny without Logan noticing. Glancing back at him, she saw him eying her with curiosity, and reacted quickly in a way she knew would distract him.

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, throwing him off balance in the process. He stumbled backward a few steps, bringing Amber closer to her goal. As he regained his footing he deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue past her teeth and exploring her mouth with an urgent heat that traveled down her body in shockwaves. She fought against the daze that threatened to overtake her, and opened an eye to gauge the situation. They were standing a few feet from the crate where Puck slept soundly, oblivious to the intensity between Logan and herself, and if she were lucky she could smuggle him from the room without awakening him.

Logan blinked in confusion as she slid under his arms and turned away from him. He did not see her snatch the rogue kitten and deposit him down the front of her shirt, where he nestled happily in her cleavage, protected from view by the folds of fabric.

Logan closed the distance between them and started kissing her neck, misinterpreting her wriggling as pleasure, rather than as an escape attempt. “Now is not the best time, Logan. I think…I’m going to go see how Pax is doing.”

“He’s fine,” he whispered against her skin. “I talked to him before I came to find you. No one will bother us in here.”

“Are you suggesting we make love on a crate?” she couldn’t hide the excitement from her voice.

“Well it wouldn’t exactly be making love, I’d say more like fu—”

“Logan!”

“Sorry. You must admit though, it’s a tempting situation.”  His hand snaked around her front and before she could stop him, down the neck of her shirt. “Damn it!” he yanked back his hand, staring incredulously at the tiny drops of blood pooling at the tip of his finger. “Did your breast just…bite me?”

She was already halfway to the door, her arms crossed over her chest as she ran. “I did try and warn you that it wasn’t a good time!”

“You had better be the next Chaucer for all the trouble I’m going through for this damn cat,” Amber grumbled as she stalked into the hold.

“Who’s Saucer?  And have you seen Puck?”

“Chaucer was a famous writer,” Henry stated.

“And here’s your missing cat.”  Both boys watched in astonishment as she tugged the cat from the front of her shirt.

“Lucky cat,” Johnny whispered to Henry.

“Lucky cat needs his claws filed down. I’m running out of places to get scratched.”  A sudden shot rang out on deck. “What was that?”

The boys shrugged as she turned and sprinted up the stairs. Johnny dropped Puck onto the floor and gave him a stern look.

“Stay,” he commanded. The cat tilted his head and peered back at him.

“I don’t think he understands you,” Henry observed.

“I hope he understands that if Logan catches him, he’ll get tossed overboard. And from what I hear, cats don’t like water.”  Ignoring the boy, Puck began meticulously cleaning himself, as if to prove to him that he wasn’t afraid of a little water. Henry and Johnny left the troublesome cat to his grooming and went up the stairs to investigate.

When they reached the upper deck they joined the crowd that had gathered. Two longboats were trailing behind the ship, tied to the stern with a length of rope. Propped in the center of each wooden craft was a straw dummy, with a large red target painted on the center of its chest. Several of the men had formed a queue, waiting with their pistols loaded and cocked.

“What’s all this?” Henry turned to Johnny, and was surprised to find himself alone. A moment later Johnny came barreling up the stairs with their guns and, passing Henry’s off to him, nudged the boy until they had joined the line. Another round was fired, accompanied by insults and teasing among the shooters. Eli squinted at the two dummies and declared one man the winner, then motioned for the next duo to step forward. Both boys grew excited as their turn approached, but they continued to watch the older men appreciatively, hoping to pick up some hints.

“Sixpence says the lass misses,” Creed wagered.

Johnny rushed to her defense. “Double says she out-shoots whoever she’s against.”

“You don’t have any money,” Henry whispered.

Johnny shushed him. “He doesn’t know that. And besides, it’s her turn, look!” Standing on the balls of their feet, they fought to see over the heads of the men in front of them. Amber stood with her arm outstretched, concentration etched on her face as she focused on the target. Ben, on the other hand, looked confident, displaying an arrogant smile and a relaxed grip on his pistol. Eli gave the command and they pulled their triggers, Amber’s gun firing at once and striking the target on the left shoulder, outside of the target lines. Laughter rang out as the smoke settled around Ben, who was gazing into the barrel of his gun with a confused expression.

“Oops.”

Eli shook with laughter. “Because Ben didn’t think to clean his gun before firing it, Amber wins by default.”  Johnny smirked as Creed unhappily thrust coins at him.

Logan appeared from the crowd of men. “Ben, you’re on pump duty today, and I expect you to maintain your weapons in working order from this point onward.” Ben looked like he was going to respond, but decided that missing the chance to practice was worth avoiding the wrath of his Captain, and headed down the stairs with shoulders slumped.

Logan took over the practice then, running them through drills until they were drenched in perspiration and their stomachs grumbled from lack of food. “Can we break for dinner Cap’n?” pleaded Pax. Logan ignored him.

“Back on your bellies, and pick up the pace. I need speed and I need accuracy. In a real-life situation you have a few seconds to line up your shot, and your enemies will not wait for you to fire first. Deacon, left, Noah, right!”

One by one he shouted their names and they had to jump to their feet from their position lying prostrate on their stomachs, aim at either the right or the left dummy, and fire a round. Then they had to reload as quickly as possible and drop to the ground again to wait for their next turn. The sky was growing dark by the time Logan dismissed them for dinner. “Double rations of ale for the rest of the week; good work today men!” Morale improved significantly after that.

He called Amber’s name and she stopped with one foot on the ladder and turned. “Run around the ship a few times with me.” Her jaw dropped in astonishment.

“Right now?  But I just—”

“Don’t argue. It will keep your muscles from tensing up and believe me, you’ll regret it tomorrow if you don’t.” She let out a groan and urged her heavy legs into action. Logan picked up her easy pace and trotted alongside her.

“Why am I the only one who has to run?”

“Because they should know better by now. When they wake up tomorrow and their bodies are as stiff as planks, they’ll remember their training. Besides, I need you healthy and limber for later.” He sent her a wicked grin as they rounded the bow. “Good work today, by the way.”

She shrugged without breaking her stride. “I shouldn’t have beaten Ben. I missed the target.”

“Not by much, and it wasn’t just luck. Ben knew what his duties were when he signed on to join the crew. If he had maintained his weapons like he was supposed to he wouldn’t have lost, and he wouldn’t feel so embarrassed now.”

“But still—”

“No buts, sweetheart, you won because you deserved it. Accept it, and let’s be done with it.”

“Fine, but you don’t always have to be so pushy, you know.”

“I know,” he smiled again, “but where is the fun in that?” He slowed into a walk, and she followed suit until they stopped outside the door to his cabin. “Go inside and change out of those dirty clothes, and I’ll go get us some dinner.”

“And what if I don’t feel like it, Mr. Pushy?”

“You had better listen to me, or else.”

She crossed her arms. “Or else what? I think you’re making empty threats.” As a reply he backed her against the door and ravaged her mouth with a scorching kiss that sent her head spinning. When he let her go she stumbled forward, dizzy and reeling.

“Or else,” he whispered, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her nose. Then he turned on his heel and left her, still breathless, leaning against the door.

The commotion downstairs was a predictable mix of men slouched over their dinner plates, too tired to even lift a fork to their mouths, and men whose energy had been restored by the panacea of alcohol. He was toasted multiple times by men who were already deep into their cups, and he declined the offer put forth by a slurring Pax to join them for a round. He reminded them that the following day’s routine would be the same as any other day, so it was in their best interests not to get too inebriated. Knowing that many of them would disregard his advice, he headed into the galley where Abe met him with a tray piled with dishes. He took the tray from him and headed back to his cabin.

“I hope you’re in the mood for turtle soup again, because it’s all…” he trailed off as his eyes settled upon Amber’s sleeping form, curled up on his bed with her hair unbound and fanned out behind her. Smiling, he set the tray down, pulled a blanket over her, and brushed a curl from her forehead.

He was aware of the domesticity of the situation, and even more painfully cognizant of his own reaction. He thought again of his home in England, and tried to picture Amber in that setting. Immediately the image formed of her bossing the maids around, spending hours in the library devouring book after book, racing over the hills on one of the stallions, and getting into vast amounts of trouble on the large estate. She belonged there. The trouble was, it was hard to see himself rejoining a world that he had shunned so many years ago. Would they even accept him?

Chapter Nineteen

The competition hovered ominously over everyone’s heads for the next several days, so Amber was not the least bit surprised that when she woke up on the anticipated morning, dark clouds hung low in the sky; nature’s manifestations of their own anxiety. She forced herself to eat, though her stomach was twisted in knots. Logan gave her a reassuring smile across the table and patted her hand. “You’re going to do fine.”

She swallowed, the bread a hard lump that inched down her dry throat to settle in her gut. She pushed the plate away. “I’m not worried.” He cocked a dark eyebrow. “All right, fine, I’m scared as hell. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Of course you have, just last night I watched an intense sparring session with William.”

“But that’s different.”

“How so?”

“That was just a game, and it was fun.”

“There isn’t a single reason why this shouldn’t also be fun. Well, apart from the potential for injury or death.”  He saw her flinch. “I’m joking of course. Everything will turn out, you’ll see. But for now, just relax, take deep breaths, and start stretching. Run around the ship once or twice, it will energize you.” She headed towards the door. “But before you go, would you mind filling me in on the format for the fights today? I hope it simplifies things, because last year was a catastrophe.”

“I haven’t come up with anything.”

His face fell. “Amber, you asked me if you could plan it, and I haven’t got any last minute ideas.”

“Don’t worry, I delegated the responsibility to someone much more capable.”

“Who would that be?”

“Johnny.”

He laughed. “Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”

“I’m not.”

“Let me see if I understand this. You put an organizational task in the hands of an easily distracted, impulsive child?”

“He’s hardly a child, Logan. Have a little faith in him—he’s smarter than you think!”

An hour later she had joined the crowd of restless men, discussing strategy with Deacon and eager to begin. She fell silent as she saw Johnny drag a crate over to the mast and climb on top of it.

“I’m only going to say this once, so you lot better shut up and listen!” The crew, who up until then had been double-checking their weapons and trading last minute advice, were stunned into silence by his loud voice. Seeing that he had everybody’s attention, including a startled looking Logan, he held up a hat. “In here there are enough slips of parchment for each of you to draw one without looking. Written on the paper is a letter, and you will find the man who has the same letter as you. This is who you’re sparring first. If you win, you find the man who has the next letter: A with B, C with D, and so on.”

“What if we can’t read?” came a shout from the rear.

“Then I‘ll show you where to go,” Johnny said, smiling at Amber. She winked back and snuck a glance at Logan, who was leaning against the mizzenmast looking dumbfounded. He caught her eye and she ducked her head, pretending to listen to Johnny. In fact, she had gone over the plan with him the previous evening.

“If you lose a round, you have to stick around and act as a judge should there be a call,” Johnny was finishing up. He turned to Logan. “Anything you wanna add, Cap’n?”

Taken aback, Logan stuttered before he regained his composure. “Though I’d prefer you didn’t kill each other, I want you to bring everything you have to these matches. I don’t want to hear you whining about “fair,” this is fighting. There is no fair. I say this not to inspire animosity between you, but to prepare you for the real world. Mendoza’s men won’t hold back, and neither should you.

“But if you lose, I want to see you recover quickly and move on to watching the other fights. Use them as a chance to learn, maybe figure out where you went wrong in your own match. Now, good luck, and may the best swordsman win.”

When it came turn to draw a letter she reached her hand into the tricorne hat and felt around, extracting a crumpled ball of paper. She unfolded it and read the G, written in Johnny’s shaky handwriting. Lifting her head she listened as her letter was called, her eyes following the voice to Henry. His face paled when he saw her. “Just promise me you won’t kill me,” he pleaded.

She laughed. “I wouldn’t worry, you’ve been doing this longer than I have.”

Logan’s voice rang out through the crowd, instructing them to draw their weapons. Henry’s hands shook visibly as he unsheathed his sword and held it up, more as protection against Amber’s blade than as a means of attack. At the sound of Logan’s pistol Amber lunged towards her younger opponent. Seconds later she pushed through his defensive stance and ran the tip of her sword across his shoulder, leaving a clean streak of blood. Henry stepped back to survey the damage, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw the minimal cut. “Thank you,” he whispered as he tucked his cutlass away and hurried over to the station Piers had set up to clean and stitch wounds.

She chuckled as she examined the edge of her sword, seeing not a drop on it.

“Easy win?” Logan asked from behind her.

“Considering that we are the only ones finished, I would say, yes, it was an easy victory.”

He slid his arms around her waist. “Couldn’t it be because you’re so skilled that no one stands a chance against you?”

“You’d best cut that out, or your men will think you’re playing favorites.”

He nuzzled her earlobe. “Oh, but I am.”

“Stop that.” She nudged him away.

“You can’t still be worried, can you? Your first victory was easy enough.”

“Too easy,” she explained. “Henry was too frightened to fight back.”

“Ever since he saw what happened to Pax he’s been terrified of you, Miss Amber,” Johnny said, approaching them with the air of someone older and more mature. He lowered his voice. “He told me his uncle got conked on the head one too many times during bar fights and died, so I figure that’s why he’s so scared.”

“It was an accident,” she stammered, her face reddening. “Pax knows I didn’t mean any harm or ill will.”

“Of course I do, love,” Pax exclaimed, sheathing his sword with a smile. Buck, looking irate, shadowed Pax as he walked towards them. “And besides, no harm done, see?” He rapped his knuckles against his skull. “Like a rock. It’ll take more than a little bump to addle my brains.”

“That’s assuming you have any to start with.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a sore loser, Buck?  You had plenty of time to block that vertical strike, but you were too slow.”

“You just watch yourself tonight while you sleep, pal.”

Logan stepped between them. “Buck, go do something productive and have Piers examine your ear. I’m not positive, but I’m fairly certain it should have stopped bleeding by now.”

“And show some sportsmanship!” Pax called at his retreating back.

“Yes, because taunting the loser after you nearly sever their ear is a mature response. Why don’t you go see if you can find your next opponent?”  Pax shuffled off and Logan turned to Amber again. “You might want to join him; there are a few pirates out there who still have their dignity. Between you and Pax, you should remedy that in an hour or two.” He winked at her. “Good luck.”

Three hours later Amber had bested Creed, Daniel, David, and several other disgruntled men. After eating a brief lunch, she stretched the tight muscles in her neck and met Deacon in the middle of the deck. The men were torn between watching them and watching the fight between Pax and Anton on the opposite end of the ship. Both matches paired a smaller fighter with a much larger one, and everyone was eager to see the outcomes.

Unaware of the other skirmish going on, and even of the crowd circling and cheering them, Amber focused on the man across from her. As they were instructed to withdraw their swords he smiled at her, retracting it the moment Logan fired his pistol. He lunged forward with his blade raised, forcing her to jump to the side to avoid his blow. She struck at the exposed portion of his midsection but he quickly parried her strike and regained a defensive position, leaving her few openings.

They fought for thirty minutes, and still neither had made any ground. Amber was growing tired, and judging by the sweat dripping down Deacon’s face, she guessed he was too. They were matched in style and skill, as he had taught her much of what she knew about the sport. The only discernable differences between them as fighters were their height and their sex. Having no desire to disrobe mid-fight, Amber rushed at him with her sword raised for a vertical strike, Deacon raising his in kind for the parry. With his blade above his center body line she twisted out of his reach and swung hers down to nick the back of his unprotected legs, drawing a curse from his mouth. But when she stood to shake hands he was smiling.

“The student becomes the teacher,” he chuckled.

“Nonsense, you always said to exploit your opponent’s weakness, and in your case it’s your height. You can’t help the fact you have a lot of body to protect.”

“Very true, which is why I wear my tall boots when I go into town or know I’ll be fighting. Gives my enemies one less target to aim for.”

“Why didn’t you wear them today?”

He smiled. “Because I underestimated you. You don’t think like an inexperienced fighter, which is impressive considering the short time you’ve been practicing.” She thanked him, and ignoring her insistence that he see Piers, he led her into the crowd surrounding the other men. They inched their way forward in order to see.

A few seconds of observation and Amber could see that Pax had the upper hand. Like her, he was quick and athletic, and able to dart around people. Anton was using his size and strength to try to overpower Pax, but the smaller man was able to avoid the crushing blows that could easily take his arm off.

“You’re still bleeding down the back of your heel,” Amber whispered to Deacon.

He hushed her and beckoned her closer, pointing at Pax. “See what he’s doing there?  He’s circling faster than Anton can keep up, because his bulk slows him down. As long as Pax can stay out of reach he can tire him out and then go in for the killing strike.” As they watched, Pax leapt into action and rushed the heavily panting giant, who didn’t have the energy to block the stinging blow across his abdomen. Blood began to trickle from his bare chest, and Logan called the fight and instructed Piers to bring over a chair before Anton collapsed of exhaustion. Deacon turned to Amber. “I hope you’ve got some energy left, because that boy is teeming with it, and you’ll need to stay one step ahead of him at all times if you want to win.”

Logan called for a break for supper, giving both Amber and Pax time to relax before the final fight, and the men something to look forward to. Following Logan into the cabin, Amber collapsed on the bed with a groan. “I’m dying.”

“You aren’t.”

“I am so. I’m dying.”

“You’re just being melodramatic.” She rolled over and pouted. “If you were dying I doubt we would be wasting time having this conversation. Now sit up and eat; you’ll need your strength and energy or Pax will run circles around you like he did Anton.”

With a reluctant sigh she pulled herself up and hobbled over to the table. “What are we having, more turtle soup?”

“Not tonight. This evening I have arranged especially for you a meal that will give you the stamina to get through the next few hours.” He pulled the cover off the tray and presented a plate overflowing with pastries, croissants, tarts and biscuits of every variety, many of them topped with mounds of jam or marmalade. “Be prepared though, the sugar will only work for a few hours, and when it wears off expect a sudden onset of lethargy.”

“Where did these come from?” she asked him between bites.

“Abe baked them while everyone was distracted on deck today.”

“How much time do I have until I have to be back out there?”

Logan swiveled his head to look out the window. “The sun will set in an hour, and by the time the men finish eating dinner and illuminating the deck, it will be another three quarters of an hour.”  He turned around. “Why, did you have something you wanted to do in that time?”

“Yes,” she responded, reaching down to tug the hem of her heavy shirt up and over her head, dropping it on the floor. She was shimmying her pants down when she saw that Logan was doing the same thing. “What are you doing?”

He paused in his action of pulling off his shirt. “Getting ready to make love to you, of course. Why, what are you doing?”

She laughed. “I’m taking a nap!” To demonstrate her point she crawled beneath the covers and plumped a pillow.

A crease formed above his brow. “But you’re naked.”

“My clothes are damp with sweat and the shirt you’re forcing me to wear is absurdly warm, so of course I don’t plan on sleeping in it. And you’re mad if you think I’m prepared to do…that with you right now,” she said as she pulled the blankets up over her eyes. “Don’t let me oversleep, or I will be livid.”

With a smile he cleared the empty dishes, being careful not to rouse her. The room tidy, he balanced the tray on his hip and left the cabin, shutting the door behind him. It was dusk, and his men were finishing their own suppers and beginning to filter back onto the deck, restless and excited about the fight, their anticipation clouding the sting of their own recent losses.

He walked among them, checking injuries and instructing them where to hang lanterns to provide the most light. He was looking for Anton when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Pax.

“Can I have a word with you, Cap’n?”

Glancing around them to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard, he bobbed his head. “What’s on your mind?”

Rocking back and forth on his feet, the freckled boy avoided meeting Logan’s eyes. “I was just wondering what you want me to do tonight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What I mean is, do you want me to lose?”

Logan was taken aback by his frankness, and decided to be forthright in return. “I assume you’re referring to my,” he searched for the word, “attachment to Amber?”

Pax’s eyes darted upwards. “Yes.”

“I figured. As for your question, no, I do not want you to forfeit the competition by any means.” He cleared his throat. “Just act as you would if she were a man.”

“But she’s not—”

“Yes, I’m well aware of her gender, Pax. Just know that she will not be holding anything back, and she expects the same from you. Don’t disappoint her. But do me one favor?”

“Anything, Cap’n.”

Logan sighed. “Do your best to keep her alive?”

“Of course, Cap’n. I like Amber to much to really hurt her.” It wasn’t until Pax had ducked below deck again that Logan was able to unclench his fists.

“That was extremely difficult for you, wasn’t it?”

He jumped. “Damn it, Eli, why are you always sneaking up behind me?”

“For the same reason you always try to divert my attention when I bring up an uncomfortable subject. If you won’t answer me, I’ll skip ahead to saying I’m proud of how you handled that conversation. I know you’re itching to rip his head from his shoulders before he can get near Amber.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Your eye is twitching and your accent is back.” He dismissed Logan’s stony glare. “Now, it’s almost time for the fight. You’ve done well controlling yourself thus far, so maintain your calm façade for just a little bit longer.”

“I’ve never needed advice on women from you in the past. What makes you think I need it now?”

Unfazed, Eli withdrew his handkerchief to wipe a speck of dust from his boots. “Because you’ve never fought this hard to win a lass before, and you’ve never encountered one like Amber. Haven’t you noticed how much happier she is without you hovering over her?  You need to let her fight her own battles, literally and metaphorically of course.”

Logan growled. “I’m an arse for listening to you, Elijah. The only bit of relief I have is in knowing this bloody contest is almost over.”

“Watch your accent!” Eli hissed after him. Grinding his teeth and wishing he had never agreed to the competition, he entered the cabin to wake Amber up.

He found her quite naked in the center of the room, sword in hand, practicing her drills. A glance at the table confirmed that she had consumed the remainder of the pastries he had left for her.

“I was too excited to sleep anymore,” she confessed as she rested the blade on the floor and leaned on the hilt.

“Your excitement apparently also outweighed your need to get dressed,” he noted with an appreciative nod.

She shrugged and reached for her breeches. “Is everyone waiting for me outside?”

“Not quite, but it is getting to be time. How are your nerves?”

“I’m not scared anymore, but I am restless and jittery.”

“I would wager a guess that’s because you just consumed half of your body weight in sugar.” He walked around the table to hand her her boots and waited for her to put them on, then kissed her on the forehead. “You’re doing an incredible job, and I’m proud of you for pushing yourself so hard. It’s really quite remarkable how far you’ve come.”

She gave him a smile as she sheathed her sword and checked the position of the knife in her boot. “Now, let’s go see if I can do this without rendering Pax unconscious for the second time.”

As he led her towards the open space in the middle of the main deck, between the mizzen and main mast, he was powerless to control the emotion surging within him. A foreign mixture of pride and possessiveness, strange and disarming in its intensity, threatened to overtake him. But somehow he managed to leave her in the center with nothing but her weapons and her skill, and take his place next to Eli at the edge of the circle. Somehow he was able to deliver a speech congratulating the two fighters on their stamina and talent, and fire his pistol into the air to signal the start of the fight. And, somehow, he was able to make it through the next excruciating fifteen minutes without jumping in to pull Amber away from Pax, and run his own blade through the boy’s heart.

The two began by circling each other, his steps a mirrored opposite of hers as they sized each other up, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Then they both lunged forward, their blades crashing together above their heads with a deafening clang only to reverberate again as he parried her second blow. He recovered with a swift counterstrike that forced her to step backwards so as not to lose the advantage of her longer blade, and lift her sword to protect her torso. Pax jumped forward to limit the range of her possible strikes, raising his shorter cutlass above him to deliver a downward cut across her shoulder. She blocked it with the flat edge of her sword and in a single sweeping motion brought her hilt around and rammed it into his chest. His balance faltered and she swept in with a series of cuts, but each was deftly blocked.

Having regained his footing, Pax increased the intensity of his attacks, his sword a blur as it swung through the air, hers always meeting his before steel could penetrate flesh. Their distorted shadows danced wildly in the flickering light of a dozen lanterns, but Logan could hardly tear his eyes off of Amber’s dancing figure to pay heed to the whimsical trickery of candlelight. Another strike from Pax, but this time Amber jumped out of the line of attack and pushed his cutlass aside, opening his chest up for a blow that was parried at the last second.

Ten minutes into the fight they both retreated a few steps to catch their breath and assess the situation. Logan was scanning Amber for any sign of fatigue when he felt the first raindrop, and one by one the men in the array lifted their heads to the dark clouds above them. Amber and Pax remained at a standstill, gazes locked.

She blinked as a splash of rain landed in her eye. Keeping Pax in her sights, she quickly glanced around her to confirm that it really had begun raining, anticipating the added disadvantage of a slippery fighting surface. Her speculation was borne out when Pax skidded in an attempt to charge her. As always he was quick to right himself, but she saw in that split second that she must stand her ground and make him come to her, because each time he lifted his foot and planted it back down on the wet deck he risked losing his balance. If she could exploit that, there was the slightest chance that she could win.

Planting her feet more solidly beneath her she distributed her weight so that she was less likely to topple, and beckoned Pax forward with a taunting grin. He pounced on her, sword swinging, and again they picked up an almost musical pattern of strike, counterstrike, parry, and riposte. Around and around they went, the loud calls from the spectators drowned by the cacophony of metal against metal, as each tried and failed to find a weak point in the other’s defense. Amber could feel her exhaustion starting to weigh her down; her muscles were slower to respond and her reaction time was increasing. She knew she had to think fast, or Pax would rush in to finish her off.

The torrent of water reduced her visibility but she could see his sword arcing down towards her, drops spraying from the edge as he rotated it to break past her defense. She spun beneath it and put all her remaining strength into the shoulder she forced against his chest. She knocked him backwards, his sword skittering to a stop two feet out of his reach. Victory imminent, Amber lunged to deliver the final blow.

Suddenly Pax swept his foot behind her knees and sent her tumbling forward onto him, her hands striking the deck and breaking her grip on her weapon. She swore and rolled to the side, reaching down to retrieve her dagger from her boot. But before she could get to it, his hand coiled around her wrist, so she drew back her leg and kicked him in the gut. As he grunted and doubled over she pulled herself free. She began crawling towards her sword.

Pax grabbed her leg and tugged her back towards him, an easy task with the rain-slicked deck providing no traction. She could see the knife in his hand as he positioned himself above her and in her moment of panic she smashed her head up into his nose, at the same time his blade sliced through the front of her shirt. They froze and a hush fell through the crowd as every set of eyes was trained on them, watching, waiting to see who would bleed first.

Finally a stream of red began to seep from the shallow wound above her breast, staining her shirt. Through the pounding rain she could hear the shouts of the observers, some joyous and some outraged as Pax stretched out his hand to help her to her feet. “Are you in pain?” he asked with a concerned glance over at Logan.

“It stings, but I don’t think it’s very deep. How is your nose?”

“My nose?  Oh—” he touched his nose and lifted his hand to see the blood coating his fingers. “Now that you mention it, it hurts like hell. I guess it’s a draw, then.”

She shook her head. “The rules were first blood, and you won.” She held out her hand to shake. “Congratulations, you deserved it.”

“You know what? I doubt I’ve worked this hard on anything before.”

“What was your motivation, the pay increase?”

He snickered. “If there’s one thing I’ve always hated it’s swabbing the deck and pumping the bilge. Getting out of it for six months is worth any work I put into this.”

“Was it worth the broken nose?” Logan asked as clapped him on the back.

Pax shrugged. “Considering the last time I fought her I got knocked unconscious, I was expecting to get my head chopped off this time. So in comparison, a broken nose isn’t so bad.”

“You might think differently after Piers sets it for you. Go get fixed up and get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning. Congratulations.”  Logan gave Pax a look that expressed his thanks, and sent him to the waiting doctor.

In two giant strides Logan reached the spot where Amber’s sword had fallen and retrieved it. Then he all but dragged her into the cabin, kicking the door shut behind them. Tossing her blade onto the table he raised his hands to the neckline of her shirt and with a hard tug, ripped it down the middle.

She gasped and stepped backwards, covering her nakedness with her arms. “I told you earlier I’m not in any…what are you doing?”

He pushed her arms aside and stared at the trickle of blood coming from her fresh wound. She glanced down. As she had thought, it was a shallow cut, and luckily a clean one.

Satisfied that she was in no immediate danger he pulled her close and sealed her lips with his own, his hands roaming upwards to tug the silk scarf from her head and tousle her hair free from her braid. She tugged herself away.

“You really should let me bathe before you do—” He silenced her with another kiss, and this time she let herself surrender to the moment. Her fingers explored the hard planes of his chest, and, growing impatient, she pulled her knife from her boot and sliced through the front of his shirt. He broke the kiss to stare down at his ruined piece of clothing.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he remarked before pulling her back against him. She could feel his erection pressing against her thigh and she began inching them towards the bed, tugging him by the front of his torn shirt. As they tumbled backwards he reached down to fumble with the opening of his breeches, when a knock stilled his hand. He stood with a growl and tossed a blanket over Amber to cover her up.

“What the hell do you want?” he snarled, flinging open the door. Standing on the other side of it was a very surprised Anton, carrying two buckets filled with water with several more lined up behind him.

“I’m sorry Cap’n, but you said you wanted a bath for miss Amber. Want me to leave these here?”

Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “No, go ahead and bring them in.”  He leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes to calm himself.

“Nice shirt,” snickered Eli as he walked past. Logan clenched his jaw tight to keep from firing back a response. Luckily Anton sensed his foul mood and rushed through the process of filling the tub, and once he was gone Logan made sure to lock the door behind him.

“What are we doing now?” Amber asked as he stripped them both of their remaining clothes and carried her over to the tub.

“I’ve given you plenty of space in the past couple weeks, but now I’m going to take care of you and there isn’t anything you can do about it, so don’t even think of arguing.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she murmured happily as he slid into the tub behind her. “Are we going to make love in here again?”

He chuckled as he reached for the soap. “After what you’ve been through I doubt your body could handle another minute of physical exertion.” He lifted her arm and let go, laughing as it dropped limply back down. “See?”

“I don’t mind,” she said, her head resting on his shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed. She yawned. “We’ll have plenty of time for that in the future.” Seconds later, her breathing deepened and she drifted into sleep.

Logan continued to bathe her, and when she was scrubbed free of the sweat and grime he cleaned and dressed her cut, all without waking her. Then he settled her into the bed and curled up next to her, an arm wrapped protectively around her body.

He had trouble falling asleep, however. She said that they had time in the future, but Logan had his doubts. Soon they would be in Spain, and once that mission was over there would be nothing preventing their return to England. Delivering Amber to her relatives would mean she no longer needed him, and his purpose would have been served. She would go back to her charmed life with England’s elite, and he would be tossed on his ear like a stray who had overstayed his welcome. He pulled his arm away and flipped onto his other side, his back to her now. He would just have to deal with it when the time came.

Chapter Twenty

“Pay attention now men, this is important. In less than ten hours we will drop sails and ride the current until we are parallel alongside la Costa de Morte.” Logan pointed to a spot on the azure waters of the map that was tacked to the wall in the orlop. “We will not be anchoring, however. Elijah, Pax, Deacon, Anton, Johnny, and Henry will row ashore and enter the village of Caión, where they will establish themselves as inconspicuous observers. They will have four days to gather information that will assist us in bringing down Antonio Castaños Mendoza.”

“Why aren’t you goin’ with them?” Creed asked.

“I am too visible,” he replied. “Mendoza and his men know me, and posters of my face are plastered on every dock from San Sebastian to Puerto de Tarifa.” The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “There’s quite a large sum on my head for anyone who manages to capture me alive and bring the Imperial Shadow to shore. I haven’t made many Spanish friends over the past few years, especially among the seafaring smugglers.

“Eli is in charge of organizing the shore group, including delegating tasks and choosing a suitable meeting spot. But as he is also at risk of being recognized, he will spend much of his time acting as runner between land and shore, bringing us the information we need.”

“What about the rest of us?  How come they get to run around Spain while we sit on our asses here on the boat?” Buck called out.

“Tell me, how would it seem to the people of Caión if a large group of strangers all appeared at the same time?”

He scratched his beard. “Well, I suppose that would seem downright suspicious.”

“I think you’ve answered your own question then,” he said as he turned back to the group. “For anyone else who is angered by the situation, know that if we successfully bring down Mendoza you can have a week of paid leave…” a cry arose from his men. “ … once we reach England.”

The cheering subsided and he dismissed them for the night, leading Amber back onto the deck. He closed his eyes to the cool air blowing across his face, and leaned back against the railing.

“Why are you giving them leave in England, instead of Spain?  I would think that Spain would better suit a pirate’s devilish nature.”

He smiled, his eyes still closed. “Luckily for everyone, you aren’t a pirate.”

He could hear the haughty tone in her voice as she replied, “What do you mean by that?”

“My dear, if you were a pirate, neither I nor Mendoza would stand a chance against you. You’d control the sea within six months.”

“Oh!” she laughed, pleased by his response. “I thought you meant—”

“I know what you thought. And know that I hold nothing but respect for you.” His eyes opened as he felt her soft body sidle up along his, causing him to harden immediately.

“You’re sure that’s the only thing you hold for me?” she teased, her hands wandering to the obvious bulge in his breeches.

“Hoyden,” he snarled as he grabbed her hands and brought his lips against hers with a punishing fury.

She chuckled as she pushed him back a step, only to tug him towards the cabin. “You may be right, but for tonight I’m your hoyden.”

The thought lingered in the back of his mind even as he shut the door behind them and all but ripped off her clothes, plunging into her with such intensity that she shuddered around him instantly. As he worked towards his own climax it continued to nag him, and even afterwards when she fell into a deep sleep in his arms, he couldn’t shake it from his mind.

He couldn’t deny that she heated his blood, but there was something else about her that tugged at his heartstrings. He knew that he needed her for more than tonight, as she had carelessly mentioned, but he had no idea what to do about it.

A full forty-eight hours had passed before Eli returned to the ship with news. Amber was sitting at the table in Logan’s cabin, puzzling over a chessboard and trying to capture his knight when Noah announced his arrival. Logan pulled out a chair for his friend, who entered in a rush and collapsed into it with a grateful sigh.

“It took me a damn hour to get out here,” he complained as he accepted the glass of rum Amber poured for him.

“It will be far easier going back, as you can just let the tide carry you to shore. Now tell us, how is everything going?”  He picked up his bishop and knocked Amber’s pawn off the board.

“As well as we could have hoped,” Eli returned. “We settled in without complications, and as far as I know we have not been recognized. The men spent their nights in the central pubs around town, listening for any news of Mendoza.”

“And?” Amber pried, leaning across the table.

“Nothing of importance, yet. We’ve identified several of his men and we are hoping one of them will lead us to him, but so far no hints as to the location of the Negro Rosa or its Captain.”

Amber collapsed backwards with a sigh of disappointment, but Logan seemed unperturbed by the lack of progress. He commended Eli for having done a good job, and bade him return the following day with more news. After he left, Logan turned his attention back to Amber. “What has you pouting now?” he asked, gesturing to the board to indicate that it was her move once again.

“I’m impatient.”

“That’s always been painfully obvious,” he noted as he watched her slide her rook to an empty square. “Anything else?”

She faltered before answering. “I had hoped to see Spain.”

He frowned. “I know you did, and I’m sorry if I misled you into thinking this was a vacation. But if we went ashore I’d be putting us both in danger. I’m too recognizable.”

“I see…” she murmured, watching him as he rubbed the stubble on his jaw and contemplated his next move. “Did you shave this morning?” she asked suddenly as an idea struck her.

He looked up. “I haven’t gotten to it yet today. Why?”

“Because, just maybe, you won’t be recognized if you don’t look like yourself.”

He pushed back his chair and stood to look in the mirror. “You may be on to something here. Before you get your hopes up however, we’d only be able to spend one night ashore, and we’d still need to be very careful. Even with a disguise we can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves. Perhaps if we stay on the outskirts of town we’d be safer, and close enough that Eli can reach us quickly with any news. But only for one night!”

“That’s all I need,” she promised him as she stretched up on her toes to kiss him.

“What do you think?” Logan asked as he scratched the dark hair that now covered his face.

“Well, I don’t usually find beards attractive, but you may just be the exception.” She leaned back to survey his appearance. “It makes you look quite dashing.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth beneath the shadow of hair. “Are you ready?” He scooped up the small satchel she had packed for their trip ashore. “Are you certain you want to do this?  My feelings won’t be hurt if you’ve changed your mind and would rather stay here.”  Her dark glare answered him. He sighed and shrugged into his blue waistcoat. “All right, let’s go.”

He opened the door and ran into Noah, who fell backward from the force of the impact. Logan extended a hand, the other rubbing his now throbbing nose.

“I’m sorry Captain, are you all right?”

“Fine,” he returned, pulling the flustered man to his feet.  “Don’t worry. Now, did you have something you wanted to tell me?  I assume that’s why…”

“Yes, of course, my apologies again.”

“He was going to tell you the prodigal son has returned,” Eli announced as he stepped into view. “Or prodigal first mate, more accurately. And I come bearing news.”

“Good,” Logan said as he brushed past him and threw the bag into the longboat. “You can tell us on the ride to shore.”

Elijah stood looking befuddled as Amber joined Logan at the side of the ship. They gave him an expectant look. “I’ve just come from there!”

“I’m aware it’s where you just came from, and you can row back with us now, or do it by yourself later. Either way, we are leaving.” Eli grumbled and dragged his feet, but he climbed into the boat. Logan settled beside him on the bench and handed him the second oar, which Eli laid across his lap as the boat was lowered down into the water. Together they untied the lines that held them to the Imperial Shadow, signaled to the crew that they were ready, and began rowing. Eli broke the silence first.

“What’s with the beard?”

Logan shot his friend a glare. “I value my life a little too much to take a bullet from some vigilante who recognizes my face from the drawings posted all over the ports. Since we are going ashore, I figured it would be prudent to take any precautions necessary.”

“And why is it that you’re going ashore? I thought you made it clear that you were going to work from the ship.”

“He’s taking me because I asked,” said Amber, joining the conversation. “I’ve wanted to see Spain ever since I was a little girl and my father read me a book about the history of the Moors, so I persuaded him to take me for a night. We are going to stay at an inn in Zorrizo.”

“Nice little town, not as much fun as the coast,” Eli remarked.

“That’s hardly the point. Now, what news did you have?”

“Oh that’s right, I had forgotten. Your beard is just so distracting. And manly. Do you know you look rather dashing?” Amber chuckled as Logan rolled his eyes.

“I told him the same thing earlier.”

“Ladies, enough. Eli, please, continue.”

“We located Mendoza, He’s been staying at the Maravilla Inn, mostly laying low. He comes out of his room only to gamble and get more tequila. And,” he said, with a pointed look at Logan, “to pick up a nueva señorita.”

“A different woman each night?” Logan asked in Spanish.

“Sí.”

“¿Por qué?”

They both turned to look at Amber, surprised at her question. “You speak Spanish?”

“Yes, as well as Latin and a bit of French. Why are men always so shocked to learn that a woman can study just as they can?”  She shook her head. “They think they’re the only creatures God graced with a brain.”

“I’m fairly certain that I’m offended by that comment.”

“Eli,” Logan whispered, “you’re not helping our side. Shut up.”

“What do all these women have in common?” Amber prodded, curious as ever.

“Well for one thing, most of them are married. He picks up lonely wives while their husbands are conducting business or are otherwise engaged. He plays the perfect Spanish host, promising to show them the most beautiful parts of the coast, and then he gets them drunk and seduces them.”

“Anything else?”

She didn’t miss the look Eli shared with Logan before he answered, “he has a certain taste for…redheads.”

Her head jerked up to meet Logan’s firm gaze. “Absolutely not. Whatever you are thinking, Amber, forget it. You are not getting involved.” She started talking at the same time as Eli, but he quickly cut them off. “Enough!  I’m not putting her in danger, and that’s final. Eli, what else do we have on him?”

“Unfortunately that’s it. We’ve planted men outside the inn day and night but he doesn’t leave, and none of his men have led us to his ship. Even our own searches of the coast haven’t turned up anything.”

“Logan, I’ll do whatever I can to—” he held up his hand to stop her.

Amber watched in silence as Logan ground his teeth, at war with himself about what to do. Minutes passed. Finally he sighed. “I don’t like this, but I must admit it is our best chance of catching him, and quick. But if we do it we must plan it thoroughly and carefully, I don’t want her in over her head.”

“I’ll be by her side the whole time, Logan.”

“Oh no you will not. You need to lay low, and besides, you’re too obvious. I’ll watch her.”

“And you aren’t obvious?  More people want you dead than me.”

Logan’s dark scowl silenced him. “I’ve had plenty of experience at keeping to the shadows. If I’m to let her embark on this foolhardy mission she is going to be within my sight at all times.”

“You don’t trust me?  Thanks very much for the vote of confidence.”

“Don’t play the wounded victim, Amber. You know full well that I have complete faith in you. Regardless, if you’re doing it, you’re going to do it under my supervision.”

“So we aren’t going to Zorrizo?”

He sighed. “No, we are going to stay in Caión. God help us.”

Amber’s excitement grew as the towering cliffs came into sight, the fog of the morning dissipating with an eerie silence around the Costa de Morte and revealing the roar of the white caps crashing against the treacherous rocks. She watched as the two men steered the small boat to safety with finesse, then jumped into the cool water and pulled the vessel into a cave to keep it hidden. She was staring up at the vertical wall before her when Logan whistled. She spun around to see him standing in the shadow of a footpath, cut into the side of the cliff, beckoning her to follow him.

Careful not to touch the damp walls she hugged the skirt of her dress close to her and stayed behind Logan as they climbed the dark, slippery slope. All light soon faded, and she gasped as something with more legs than she cared to count crawled across her hand. With a violent shudder she shook it off. A shriek behind her followed by the crunch of a booted foot making contact with the large insect told Amber that she must have flung it directly at Elijah. Refusing to think about what other creatures scurried in the darkness, she pressed on.

At last they reached the end of the path. Logan signaled them to be silent as he inched forward into the scattered rays of sunlight and peered out, inviting them forward. The brightness of daylight blinded her as she emerged from the caves. She was unable to look around before Logan shoved her against the wall and kissed her. She blinked against the aggressive advance, pushing him away.

“I don’t think this is the time or place—”

“I know it isn’t,” he growled, his hands bunched in the fabric of her dress. “If I had my way we wouldn’t be walking around in the middle of the day, drawing attention to ourselves. Hell, we wouldn’t be here at all.”

She raised a hand to his coarse cheek. “I know, but we’re here now.”

“Damn it,” he kissed her once more, and then pulled a black scarf from his waist. “Put your hair up with this. We don’t want you being noticed just yet.”

“Logan, now is as good a time as any,” Eli called from the street. “We need to get her to the inn before it gets too crowded out here.”

Amber looked to Logan for his consent. He nodded and with a final kiss he pushed her towards Eli. She began walking briskly alongside the tall pirate, hiking up her skirts to match his long-legged pace. When she glanced behind her Logan was nowhere to be seen, and a sudden sense of panic filled her. Eli felt her body tense alongside him, and turned to see what she was looking at. “Don’t worry, he’s there.”

As if he had been listening, Logan stepped forward from the shadows and just as quickly disappeared, leaving Amber to wonder if she had seen him at all. But Eli’s hand on her elbow steered her forward, allowing her no time to search for him.

Finally she noticed Pax, his lanky body leaning against the whitewashed outer walls of a building, the painted sign above his head reading Las Meninas. His smile grew as he saw what Eli had in tow.

“Brought me a present, did you?”

“Actually, I did. Pax, meet your new wife.”

“I…she…my what?”

“Let’s get you inside,” Amber suggested as she led him through the front door, “and we’ll explain everything.” When they reached the room, she was startled but not surprised to find Logan already reclining on the bed.

They filled Pax in on the plan, and sent him off to make contact with the others and let them know their roles. Logan ordered a small lunch from the kitchen downstairs to be sent up.

“Isn’t it a bit early to eat?”  Amber asked as she walked the perimeter of the room, her body still teeming with nervous energy.

“It isn’t if we want to go out when the streets are the least crowded, which is when the sun is the highest overhead. Luckily it doesn’t get too hot up north, but the people still tend to head indoors during midday, making it a perfect time for us to go exploring.”

“We get to explore?”

“I did promise to show you a little of Spain, didn’t I? And as long as we stay in the outskirts of town and avoid being out for too long, I think we should be fine. I wish we had more time though, because I would love for you to see Madrid, or Barcelona, or even Sevilla. They are stunning.” He saw her frown. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just that my mother and I always spoke of exploring Europe and the Mediterranean once I was old enough, but I see now that it was probably a ploy to get me excited about my studies. Learning history and foreign languages seemed so much more important when I thought I would get to use that information someday.”

He led her over to the bed and sat her down, his arm resting on her shoulders and drawing her against him. “I am sorry about your mother; Eli told me what happened after I walked in on him hugging you that one night. I take it you were close to her?” She nodded. “When did it happen?”

“Less than a week before I met you.”

He winced and pulled her closer. “No wonder you thought I was an ass,” he murmured against her hair, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Logan, I would have thought you were an unmitigated ass no matter when I met you, had I met you under the same circumstances.”

“Fair enough,” he replied with a chuckle, moving the conversation into lighter territory. “Are you looking forward to seeing your family in England?”

She shrugged and slipped from his reach, rising to pace the room once again. “I suppose, although I haven’t seen any of these people since I was a child. They are practically strangers to me.”

“Are they expecting you?”

“Do you mean, will they be worried that I have not yet arrived? I can only speculate, but I assume that they are aware of my mother’s death by this time, as our butler Maxwell was sending several more trunks with my belongings to England on a passenger ship that departed two weeks after mine. A fastidious man, I will put money on the fact that he packed a note to my relatives should the trunks for some reason arrive before I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, what’s done is done. We’re here now, and we have a job to do. Ridding the seas of Antonio Castaños Mendoza, remember?”

“I remember,” he said, forcing a smile as the maid knocked at the door with a platter of food. They ate in silence, and as Amber was adjusting her day dress and tying on the boots Logan had procured for her, he came over and placed a wide brimmed straw hat on her head. “Ready?”

He led her out into the blinding sunlight, sending a pointed look at a dark figure slouched against the wheel of a wagon. Johnny hopped to his feet and began following the pair as they headed towards a market on the outer edge of town. Although they appeared inconspicuous, Amber knew that under the shadow of Logan’s tricorne his eyes were darting around for any sign of trouble, his hand never far from the pistol strapped beneath his coat. She too was aware of the glances they were receiving, ready to grab the knife that was tied to the inside of her thigh.

More distracting, however, was the beauty of the foreign land surrounding her. She was assaulted by the strong scent of flowers that seemed to adorn every pathway, window box, garden, and market stall, and the Moorish architecture took her breath away. But she was unable to admire it further, as Logan pulled her into a store.

“Good afternoon,” the shopkeeper said as she approached, obviously annoyed at being taken from her lunch. “What may I help you with today? I’m afraid I’m rather busy at the moment, perhaps you can return later—”

“I would like the dress in the window for my companion,” Logan interrupted in English, holding up a coin purse and tossing it towards her. “I believe this should cover the dress, the necessary alterations, and another dress for tomorrow evening.”

“Señor, I assure you I cannot possibly…” her eyes widened as she opened the pouch and examined the contents. “My apologies, right this way, Señorita. Santos!” A young boy burst forth from the back room. “Santos, pull the silk gown and bring it to me, as well as the…” she eyed Amber’s complexion and the tendrils of red hair that curled around her face, “green from the back.”

“But Doña, that gown was commissioned for—” he stopped as the shopkeeper raised a hand to silence him. He gave a bow and hurried from the room.

“Follow me please. Señor, you return in one hour.”

“You aren’t staying?” Amber practically pleaded as she was being led away from him.

He smiled. “And watch you try on clothes?”

“No! It is not allowed,” the shopkeeper said forcefully. “You will return in one hour.”

“Johnny is waiting outside should you need anything. If I’m not back by the time you finish, he can get you safely back to the inn, where you will wait for me. You are not to wander around without me, understand?”

“Where will you go?”

“Just to take care of a few things,” he said with a wink as he pushed open the door. “Have fun.”

Fun was far from how she would describe the next hour and a half at the hands of the rough seamstress, who seemed to push and prod and pinch her for her own enjoyment, so much so that Amber feared she might bruise from the assault. After being stuck by what felt like the hundredth pin, the woman stepped back to survey her work. “Yes, you take this off and give it to me and I will sew it. You come back later this afternoon with your husband and I will have it ready for you. And tomorrow you may come for the other one.”

Amber picked up the skirts, careful to not prick herself further, and moved to the settee where her own dress had been carefully laid. “Let me help with that,” the seamstress offered as she stood from cleaning up her fallen pins, astonished to see Amber in her chemise and pulling her dress over her head.

Amber caught her look and blushed. “My maid is often ill, and so I’ve gotten used to being self-sufficient,” she lied. The storekeeper gave her a strange look, and to avoid rousing suspicion Amber presented her back to the woman, allowing her to lace her dress and smooth the skirts over her petticoat. It was a foreign feeling having someone help her get dressed, so long had she been at sea and without a maid’s assistance. It was not an uncomfortable situation, but it reminded Amber that in a few weeks time she would be once again be introduced to the finer things in life and would have to get used to being taken care of by a large household staff. And it brought to the forefront of her mind that soon she would be separated from Logan—a most unwelcome thought. Trying to ignore it, she thanked the woman for her time and exited the shop. She looked around for Logan, but found only Pax.

“Johnny was dismissed to do some spying, and I volunteered to escort you back to the inn. After all, we are married,” he said with a grin that Amber knew to be harmless.

It was nearing dusk when Logan returned to the room, balancing a large load of boxes as he shut the door with his hip and approached the bed where Amber sat. “What are you reading?”

She shut the leather tome and held it up for him to see. “Don Quixote. The maid downstairs suggested it to brush up on my Spanish. I’m afraid I’ve let it get quite rusty over the past several years, and I didn’t know how long I’d be waiting for you to come back.”

“Where did you get it from?”

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him, “I made Pax go out and get it for me. It gave me some time to bathe without him hovering over me. I don’t know why you couldn’t have chosen Deacon for this farcical marriage. At least he wouldn’t be quite so attentive.”

“That’s precisely why I picked Pax. I’m not comfortable with this whole escapade, and would rather he be appointed your guard dog, as he does seem to have developed an affection for you. Come, try this on,” he instructed, pulling the green dress from the largest of the boxes scattered on the bed. He held it out to her. “Do you like it?  You may keep it of course, once we’ve captured Mendoza.”

She took the dress, and with his assistance stripped off the one she was wearing and slipped the new one over her head. It did not get very far, however.

“After an hour of measuring,” she paused to gasp a breath, “you’d think that she’d be able to make a damn dress that fit!”

“Perhaps it’s the style,” he said as he circled her, examining the seams of the new garment. “I’m afraid it will rip apart during dinner, and though it would certainly capture Mendoza’s attention, I don’t think that’s quite what we are aiming for.”

“Just get it off,” she hissed, sighing in relief as the constricting dress was removed. She spun around and, striding across the room attacked the lunch tray, devouring the last bit of bread and cheese.

“What are you doing? You do remember you will be eating dinner at Mendoza’s inn, don’t you? Once we figure out what you are going to wear, that is.”

“I know that Pax and I will be sharing a meal, but it’s unlikely that much will be eaten.”  She wiped the crumbs from her hands and walked to the wall, where she grabbed hold of the wooden pillar. “All right, I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, exactly?”

“You need to tighten my stays.”

“Will you be able to breathe?”

“Thousands of women have learned to get by without such a luxury; certainly I can as well. Now do it before I change my mi—” her words died in her throat as all air was squeezed from her lungs, the cording of her corset looped around his large hands as he pulled tight.

“Am I hurting you?” She shook her head, holding back a cry of discomfort. “Well my ribs ache just looking at you, so I’m not going any further.” He tied a neat bow and stepped back. “Wow.”

Straightening her back and turning, she caught sight of herself in the large looking glass by the tub. Her already small waist had been diminished to almost nothing, accentuating her round hips and forcing her breasts up further than she ever believed possible. “Jesus Christ…” she murmured.

“Shall we try it again?” he offered, holding out the dress once more. This time it slid down her form without the slightest trouble, and he tied the laces down the back with ease. “It is a beautiful color,” he remarked, moving back towards the pile of boxes as she stared at herself in the mirror. “It makes your eyes look like emeralds.”

She gasped as he fastened a glittering necklace about her throat, her hand rising to finger the cold gems in astonishment. “Logan, where did you get this?”

“I bought it this afternoon; that’s why I was so late returning. I had to travel ten miles to find one I liked.”

“But why?”

“Well, Deacon brought to my attention that Mendoza’s consorts usually find trinkets missing after their night with the Spanish pirate, and so I figured if he was daft enough to not notice you wearing that dress, then this beauty around your neck would surely capture his attention. Along with this,” he added, holding another box towards her. She opened it to find matching diamond and emerald earrings. With care she removed her own simple pearl ear bobs and replaced them with Logan’s gift, placing her old ones in the box so as not to lose them. She turned again to the mirror, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“I hardly recognize myself.”

“Why?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, kissing her bare neck. “You are just as beautiful as ever, only this time, you look like the royalty you deserve to be. And as stunning as I find you even stubbornly dressed in breeches and men’s shirts, I could get used to this new style,” he said with a smirk as his hand dropped to brush the exposed part of her breast. Her pulse quickened.

“I have one more thing for thing for you.” She waited as he retrieved the last and smallest of the boxes.

“I can’t accept anything else. You’ve already spent far too much.”

He chuckled. “You need not worry yourself about how much I spend, Amber. I’ve told you I have more funds than I know what to do with. And besides, this last part is perhaps the most crucial piece of all.” He opened the box and removed a gold band with a large emerald in the center with two shining diamonds on either side, and two perfectly round pearls beside them. “May I?”

Wordlessly she offered her left hand, and he slipped the ring onto her finger. She held it up, the flawless cut of the gems scattering the light in a prism of white and green.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed, fighting down the lump rising in her throat.

“You do like it? And it fits all right?”

“I love it, and it’s exactly the right size, but why?”

“Because Mendoza targets married women, of course, and our façade would not be believable without a wedding band. Pax has one too, a much simpler, unadorned one.”

“Oh, of course.” She dropped her head to hide the color she felt climbing her cheeks. “Logan, may I have a moment alone? I have a few things to do to finish getting ready, and I would like some time to prepare myself.”

“Of course,” he said, eyeing her as if he could read her embarrassed thoughts. “Take your time, I’ll just be downstairs.”

Her hands shook as he departed the room, and as the door closed she collapsed into the chair. She lifted her head, her gaze meeting her own reflection. What was she doing? She should be in England, dancing and flirting with dukes and earls, instead of masquerading as a pirate in Spain. She had a duty to her family name, to the Townsend house in Boston, to Maxwell and everyone who worked for her. Not for the first time, she felt as if she were betraying her responsibility by getting swept up in the excitement of the lifestyle she had always craved. Books and bedtime stories were one thing, a way for her to escape, but actually living an adventure was thrilling and incredibly addictive.

The girl in the mirror stared back at her, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away and paused, the ring catching her attention once more. She had been foolish to think that Logan was proposing to her, and yet, looking at the ring she could imagine spending the rest of her life with him, every day filled with adventure and passion and love.

Her heart skipped a beat. Love? Could that possibly be what she felt for him? Of course not; the man drove her insane and she loathed him.

But deep down she knew that she had moved beyond hating him long ago, probably when he rescued her from the men in Tortuga, or perhaps even before that. She couldn’t imagine living without him, and she couldn’t picture herself returning to her old life. She would do her job, they would capture Mendoza and she would deal with leaving Logan once they reached England. Until then she would love him in the only way she knew how.

Chapter Twenty-one

Pax stood upon Amber’s arrival in the room, his smile widening as he took in her appearance. “Mrs. Grant, you look ravishing this evening.” She accepted his offered arm, and the shawl he held out for her. “Logan said you might want this if it gets chilly out, and he also told me to tell you that you will do wonderfully, he trusts you implicitly, and that he is always in sight of you whether you can see him or not.” He leaned in closer. “He also wanted me to double check that you were armed, though I told him it was unnecessary as I’d be with you, but he insisted. Do you have your knife?”

“Strapped to my thigh. Let’s get going.”

“Did you lose weight? You look skinnier, not that I’m saying you looked anything other than skinny before, it’s just, you know. I’m going to shut up now.”

Amber laughed and playfully bumped her shoulder against his. “Are you nervous, Pax?”

“About taking Mendoza down? Not in the slightest. About taking a beautiful woman to dinner? Terrified.”

“You have nothing to worry about. You’ve already won me over, remember?” She raised her hand with the ring on it, showing it to him.

“Good lord, that’s much bigger than what I pictured when he said he’d bought you a band. I only got this little one,” he pouted, showing her the simple gold ring on his left hand. A small pebble flew forward and hit Pax on the head. Amber looked around for the thrower but saw no one, while Pax just rubbed the sore spot on his brow and urged her forward. “Can’t say I agree with his methods of communication, but he has a point. Mendoza’s inn is still a ten minute walk and we want to get there before they stop serving dinner to ensure that he’s there when we arrive.”

“How is this going to work? Are we an American couple?”

“Well, I’m playing the Irish trader, and you will be my blushing bride, fresh from the colonies.” Amber stopped dead as she listened in disbelief to Pax’s impeccable Irish accent. “Come on, we have to hurry.” He tugged at her arm, and she came dragging her feet.

“You aren’t from the colonies, are you?” she asked him with suspicion.

“Does it matter?” He met her hard gaze. “No, I’m not American, I’m originally from Ireland, but I moved to England when I was a child. I can talk like this, if it makes you feel any better,” he said, switching to a British accent.

She shook her head. “Hold on a moment, how many of you have adopted fake accents?”

Pax shrugged. “Most of us, I would assume. Well, that’s not entirely true, but at least half. The newer members of the crew are probably all from the colonies.”

“Where is everyone else from?”

“Eli I’m pretty sure is British, Anton is from Morocco, and Deacon is Irish, but I’m not certain about the others. You’d have to ask them yourself.”

Amber glanced around. “What about Logan?”

“The men seem to think he’s British, but I couldn’t tell you one way of the other,” he admitted, dropping his voice. “None of us are sure where he came from, or whether he has any family to speak of. But we can’t talk about it anymore; it isn’t safe to mention his name. Besides, we’re here.”

Amber lifted her head to take in the sight of the inn, very similar to her own but larger and more impressive. It also apparently boasted a higher form of entertainment than hers, for the voices being carried into the street indicated the presence of a large crowd. Wishing all of a sudden to see Logan before she entered, she swiveled her head around but did not see him. “Stop looking about; we don’t want people to go searching for him,” Pax whispered in her ear. She nodded and followed him into the Maravilla Inn.

Concealing a grimace as Pax slid an arm around her waist she forced a smile and let him lead her to a table in the center of the room, where they were certain to be noticed. “I apologize now for how obnoxious I’m about to be,” he muttered as he seated her, and then straightened himself up. “Perdón,” he shouted with terrible Spanish articulation, “some drinks and dinner for me and my beautiful wife. And fast!”

The room went quiet as every pair of eyes turned to stare at the brash Irishman who had no concept of propriety, and at the woman sitting beside him with an embarrassed expression. A serving girl dropped two flagons of ale in front of them and offered them an option of red bean stew with chorizo and ham, or fish in salsa verde. Amber opened her mouth to ask for the stew when Pax interrupted her. “I will have the bean stew and my wife will take the fish.” He smirked at the Spanish girl. “She was having trouble fitting into her dress this evening.”

He waited until she had sauntered away before whispering to Amber, “Feel free to act angry with me.”

“Who’s acting?” she grumbled into her drink. His hand moved to cover the mouth of the mug, lowering it to the table. He pulled it towards himself.

“Sorry.”

“Remind me again what my role is in this whole endeavor? Or are you to do everything, while I simply sit here and become further agitated?”

“Your goal tonight is to capture the attention of one man, and you have successfully accomplished that. The die has been cast.”

“Mendoza is here?”

“He is seated at a table to your right. No, don’t look now; it will be obvious we have been talking about him. Wait,” he commanded before polishing off both of their mugs of ale. He winked at her and then stumbled to his feet, waving the empty flagon about. “I’m still thirsty!  Don’t you Spaniards have anything stronger? You know, tequila, gin?” He staggered over to a table, empty except for one man.

“What are you drinking?” he demanded of the dark Spaniard, who eyed him coldly.

“Orujo.”

“Orujo, eh? Sounds strong.” He raised a hand with a smile and hailed down the serving girl. “I’ll have what he’s having, and make it two glasses.”

Mendoza lip curled, drawing her attention to the large ragged scar that bisected his left cheek. “I like your style, Irishman. Come, sit down,” he offered in heavily accented English.

“I’d love to, but I’ve got to keep the missus company while she eats.”

“Is that your wife over there?  She is quite beautiful.” Amber dropped her eyes to the table to avoid Mendoza’s piercing gaze.

“Aye, isn’t she?  Just picked her up on my last trip to the colonies,” Pax boasted. “Looking at her you’d think she was Irish born, but believe it or not the lass is from Connecticut. Her father was all too happy to get rid of her and I didn’t hesitate to take him up on his offer. I mean,” he slurred as he stood, “look at her.”

Amber glanced up to see that Mendoza was indeed looking at her, his dark brown eyes boring a hole into her skin. She looked away again, just as the serving girl brought them their food. Pax excused himself from his new friend and returned to the table, grabbing his spoon and diving right into his stew. “You certainly play the part well,” she whispered as she picked at her meal with a fork, wondering what type of fish it was and why it smelled so foul. Her stomach was already in knots from the corset and Mendoza’s stare, so she gave up any hope of eating.

“As do you, my dear wife. One would believe you were about to strangle me, with that poisonous look you’re giving me. Don’t try to change it, that is the plan,” he reminded her. “We want Mendoza to think you are fed up with your marriage, so that when you return alone tomorrow night he will target you.”

“You’re not coming back with me?”

He shook his head as he shoveled another spoonful of stew into his mouth. “He won’t approach you if I’m around.”

“What happens after I have him alone?”

“It will all be explained later,” he mumbled as he used his bread to soak up the rest of the broth. He apologized to her again as he reached across and dragged her plate towards himself and began to eat that as well. “Now look up and meet his gaze, blink coyly or whatever it is that you do and then look away.” She did, unnerved to see that his eyes were focused her still figure at the table. He gave her a slight nod before she turned away. Pax finished Amber’s meal and stood, throwing several coins onto the table.

“Enjoy your Orujo,” he called back to Mendoza genially, his hand sliding to cup Amber’s bottom. “I’m going to enjoy my woman.”

She waited until they were several streets away before reeling back and slapping Pax. His hand flew up to rub his stinging cheek. “What was that for? I thought he told you the plan!”

“He never told me you would take advantage of my position as your wife to publicly grope me,” she said, hearing Logan’s distinct laugh somewhere behind her. “Don’t think you aren’t in trouble too, mister. I expect to be filled in completely when we get back to the room.”

Pax scowled as he led her down the winding streets. “This is why I’m never getting married.”

“You’re not getting married because no woman in her right mind would have you.”  Feeling bad, she apologized as they neared the inn. “I was just taken off guard,” she explained. “How’s your cheek?”

“Could be worse, at least you didn’t break my nose again,” he said with a chuckle. They were in better moods as they finished the journey and he walked her to her room. “How about a goodnight kiss?”

She rolled her eyes, her hand already pushing open the door. “Sleep well, dear husband.” She shut the door in his face and turned to Logan. “You.”

“Me?”

“Tell me what this plan entails, so I don’t have any more unpleasant surprises.”

He rose from the bed and motioned for her to turn around. “I needed you surprised tonight. If you had anticipated Pax’s actions you would not have been able to react to them as spectacularly as you did. Now Mendoza, and everyone else who saw the way he treated you, believes you to be the stunning, quiet wife of an outspoken drunken Irishman. The shock on your face when he grabbed you proved to Mendoza that you despise your husband, and he will be sure to make a move tomorrow night when you are alone. Now raise your arms,” he instructed, lifting the dress up and over her head and dropping it onto a chair. With quick movements he went to work on her stays, chuckling as she inhaled deeply once the restrictive garment was loosened.

“Good lord, that was awful. And I’m starving.”

“I anticipated that, so I had the maid fix you a light meal. She should be back soon with something to get you through the night. His hand moved to caress her cheek. “You were incredible this evening, and you looked radiant.”

“Where were you standing?” she inquired as his nimble fingers went to work on the clasp of the emerald necklace. The heavy piece of jewelry dropped into his hand.

He gestured for her to remove the earrings as well. “Sorry, the fewer people know where I am the better. I don’t want you looking around for me. I was planning on letting you keep the ring on tonight to let you get more comfortable wearing it, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t know if you were conscious of it, but you were fidgeting with it all evening. It looked very convincing.”

She wordlessly slid the ring from her finger and dropped it into his palm, then walked over to the small basin to splash some water on her flushed face. Logan set the small table with the food the maid delivered, and she joined him there. “What exactly is the plan for tomorrow?” she asked, holding out a hunk of cheese.

He shook his head. “Tomorrow evening you will return to the Maravilla Inn alone and order dinner. Mendoza will approach you, and you will accept his proposal to join you and drink everything he puts in front on you, which, from what the men have observed, will be a lot of alcohol. You may not have seen him tonight, but Deacon has acquired a job as the bartender, and will be watering down all of your drinks.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she laughed, recalling her last experience with too much alcohol.

“Yes, well, we’ve seen what happens, and we are trying to avoid it. Not that throwing yourself at Mendoza wouldn’t be the perfect way to obtain information, but you’d regret it in the morning. Besides,” he said as he stood and held out his hand for her to join him on the edge of the bed, “you’re mine.”

She tried to ignore his hand cradling her head as he began kissing her neck. “Logan, what happens after he thinks I’m drunk?”  He mumbled something into her shoulder and she laughed, pulling backwards so that she could see his face. “The sooner we get through the boring information, the sooner we can move on to more important things,” she told him.

“Lets save the talking for later. Though you looked delectable in the dress tonight, I much prefer you with all of your curves,” he said, hunger in his eyes as he reached for her again. She stood.

“How about for every vital piece of information you give me I remove one piece of clothing?”

“You aren’t wearing that much,” he noted, staring at her chemise.

“But you still are.”

His eyes widened. “You have a deal. Once Mendoza thinks you’re drunk he’ll invite you back to his room. You will say no, you shouldn’t.” She knelt before him and tugged off his boots.

“And then?”

“He will buy you another drink, and flirt some more. He will tell you that you are beautiful and that your husband doesn’t treat you well.” She pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor. “This will seem to sway you and when he asks you to come up again, you agree.” She removed her own shoes. “When you get there, he will offer you yet another drink. You will only pretend to drink yours, and when he is distracted you will slip some herbs into his.”

She leaned back. “What kind of herbs?”

“A specialty of Piers. They will work with the alcohol and make him very drunk, almost hallucinating. When he is in this vulnerable state you will either seduce the information out of him, or I will come in and take him down to the beach and, well, beat it out of him.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it. Now, I believe you owe me several articles of clothing.”

“Yes Captain,” she said with a wicked smile as she teasingly toyed with the straps of her chemise, before dragging them over her arms and letting the fabric slide down her body. A few seconds later he was naked as well. She tumbled on top of him, pushing him backwards onto the bed. Eager as ever to regain control he rolled his body above hers so he could look down at her flushed face, get lost in the depths of her eyes that seemed to draw him like a moth to a candle.

“Amber,” he muttered in a raw voice, “how do you do this to me?” In response she flung her arms around his neck and drew him to her for another kiss, pressing her body against his chest, shining with sweat. Unable to restrain himself further he entered her, drowning her gasp with a growl of his own.

Something prevented him from driving into her, fast and hard, as he normally did when he lost himself in her slick warmth. Instead he found himself moving slowly, watching her face as her lips parted in surprise. Without taking his eyes off of her he brought his face down for a kiss, his hand cupping her warm cheek.

It amazed her that while she felt so safe in his arms she was at the same time in danger of losing herself entirely, as though he could protect her from everything but falling in love with him. His languorous movements were heaven and hell at the same time, filling her with more need than she thought possible, as it forced her to feel every inch of him sliding in and out of her. Slow, so tantalizingly slow.

She let out a helpless sigh as she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. Her body moved in time with his, her hips lifting to meet each thrust and draw him deeper within her. Each touch, every caress stroked the fire that was building inside her, and she clutched him as if she were afraid to let go. She knew that the aftereffects of loving someone as roguish as Logan would be devastating, but in the moments when they were joined she could think of nothing else besides their bodies and the emotions that sucked all air from the room. With each ragged breath she inhaled his masculine scent, and she soon became dizzy in the sensuous aroma that swirled around her.

Logan buried his head in the crook of her shoulder and neck and increased his pace only enough to tease her, leave her squirming beneath him, always wanting more. Ignoring her silent protests against the reduced speed of his lovemaking, he tormented her by driving them both slowly to their own releases. Each minute that he delayed she became more restless.

Finally, when she thought she would go mad, he grasped her shoulders and pushed deeper, holding her close as she cried out. The heat that had been growing inside her erupted and spread throughout her body like warm honey, covering her with a sense of rapturous contentment that drowned any doubts she had about loving him. She was so caught up in her own ecstasy that she hadn’t realized that he had spent inside her until he withdrew and rolled onto his back.

She curled up against him, her hand intertwining with the one he had placed over his chest to make sure his heartbeat was returning to normal. He rubbed his thumb against her palm, his other hand sliding beneath her head to cradle her tightly. She sighed.

“Tomorrow is going to be a bit hectic,” he said, brushing a light kiss across her forehead. “Are you nervous?”

“I’m excited. I finally get to do something helpful, and put my skills to good use.” She winked at him as she emphasized skills. “And I’m not afraid at all, if that was your next question.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I’ll have my dagger and, more important, I’ll have you with me the whole time.”

He rolled on top of her, holding himself up on his elbows. “So, I have a redeeming quality after all. Funny how that worked out.”

“You may have a couple,” she replied in a husky voice, her hands stroking the muscles of his back as she arched against him.

His eyes lit up. “I love the look you’re giving me right now.”

“I lo—” she stopped as she realized just what she had been about to say. She would have to watch what she said in the future, lest she accidently show how strong her feelings were.

He was watching her quizzically. “What?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, giving him a kiss to distract him. “Now let’s go to sleep, it’s been a long day, and tomorrow is going to be even longer.” He nodded, and with a satisfied smile pulled her against him and fell asleep.

Several times Amber woke up during the night and just lay there watching him, too overwhelmed to sleep. Each time she did she was amazed at how innocent he looked. Without the stresses of the day wearing on his face he appeared to be so at peace, and she found herself wondering how old he was. It was hard to tell. To be such an accomplished Captain it would seem that he should be in his mid to late thirties, but now, in the comfort of sleep, he looked much younger.

Her hands itched to explore his face, trace the angle of his jawbone, his aristocratic nose, and tangle themselves in his hair, but she held back for fear of waking him. Restless, she stood. Dragging a blanket from the edge of the bed to cover herself and shield her from the brisk night breeze that blew in from the open window, she began pacing.

She could not deny that she loved him, that much was clear. But what was she to do about it? The way she saw it, she had two choices; she could either pretend that she did not care for him, finish the mission, leave him in England and continue with her original plan as though she had never met the damn pirate. Or she could tell him how she felt.

She shook her head. Impossible. She could not risk the heartbreak that would come with his inability to return her affections. The loss of her mother was devastating enough; add to that the embarrassment and grief that would come with losing Logan and she didn’t know how she would cope. No, instead she would save herself the humiliation and keep her feelings to herself.

Frustration and anger flooded over her and she grabbed the nearest weapon, which happened to be her dagger. Fueled by her emotions, she began tossing the blade up and catching it, initiating more and more complex moves as she warmed to the feeling of it in her hand.

“Amber?” She spun about to see Logan propped up on an elbow, watching her through sleep-heavy eyes. “Come back to bed.”  She put down the dagger and dropped the blanket, shivering as she climbed under the covers and into his arms, relishing his body heat. He kissed her shoulder. “Now don’t go anywhere,” he whispered, and then immediately fell back asleep. This time she followed him.

“So you remember the plan?”

Amber laughed as she stared at her reflection in the mirror and pinned back a curl. She met Logan’s gaze over her shoulder. “Of course I remember the plan, we’ve gone over it hundreds of times. Why are you so worried?”

“I’m not worried, I’m just…cautious,” he countered.

“Well you can relax, everything will go off without a hitch. Now, where is that emerald necklace?” She rose from the chair and ran into Logan, who held another box in his outstretched hands. “What have you done this time?” she demanded as she took it from him.

“Open it.”

She did, and lying upon the silk lining of the box was the most breathtaking necklace she had ever seen. Twenty square diamonds made up the chain; each square was mounted on gold and surrounded by a dozen, smaller round diamonds, with a tear-shaped drop suspended from each grouping. The hanging pendant in the middle was similar, but the center gem was the largest diamond she had ever seen. “This cannot be real,” she muttered, her eyes glued to the thousand glittering facets of the focal diamond as he lifted it and bade her turn around.

“I assure you it’s real,” he said as he clasped the necklace around her neck. “But you can relax, sweetheart, this I already owned. Spoils of war, so to speak.”

“You’ve had this all along?”

“For years,” he replied, “but I’ve never had cause to bring it out of the box. Until now.”

“This must be worth…I can’t even imagine.” She reached up to take it off but he stayed her hand.

“Wear it. Keep it. I want you to have this, for everything I’ve put you through.” She stood on her toes and kissed him, slipping her tongue past his lips to tangle with his. With his hand at the small of her back he held her tight, returning the kiss, and then he released her. “Now is everything in order? Your knife is set?” She nodded. “Good, because we have to get going. You look lovely, by the way.” She glanced down at the rose damask dress that the seamstress had readied for them earlier that day. The woman had been alarmed when Logan explained that the dress was to be made larger, but Amber now relished the extra room she had to breathe.

“My dressmaker at home would never have allowed me to wear something in this color, but you have a good eye. How did you know this pink would look good on me?”

“Your dressmaker must not have seen you blush,” he said with a smile, “because this is the exact color your cheeks turn when you are embarrassed or aroused.” She felt the heat rising in her face and turned towards the mirror, seeing that he was correct. She was astounded.

“You’ve memorized the color of my blush?” She smiled upon seeing a slight pink tinge appear on his cheeks as he shrugged. “Now who’s the embarrassed one?”

“Get your laughing out now, because once you leave the inn you won’t be able to make fun of me until Mendoza is captured.”

“I wasn’t laughing and besides, I think it’s sweet.”

He groaned. “Please don’t tell my men that I’m sweet, I have an image as Captain to uphold. Now let’s go. Pax is probably getting anxious.”  Before she could leave the room he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry, you’re going to do wonderfully. I’ll be watching the whole time and if something goes wrong we’ll be there to help you. Not that anything is going to happen of course, I just mean, should you need anything. I’m not saying you will, but—”

“Logan?”

“Yes?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Am I?”

She kissed him. “Relax, I was trained by the best, remember?  Now, go become invisible and I’ll see you once the night is over.” He brushed his lips against her forehead, gave her one last look, and climbed out the window.

Squaring her shoulders she opened the door, only to see Pax with his hand raised, about to knock. “Are you read—good lord, is that real?” he asked, pointing at the diamond resting above her cleavage.

“Another gift.”

“Lucky you. Let’s head out now.” They reached the pub just as the sun set behind the horizon, casting the buildings and the people in an orange glow. They stopped outside the doors. “You ready for this?” She nodded. “Then it’s showtime.”

She took a deep breath and followed Pax into to the pub. “I just don’t see why you have to leave tonight,” she whined as he wove his way towards the bar.

“Darling, I told you I have an important meeting.” He nodded at the bartender and ordered a pint of ale, ignoring her again, and giving no indication that his closest friend was serving him drinks.

She put on a pretty pout. “It’s not a meeting, it’s another card game. That you will lose. If my father could see me now…”

“Yeah? Well he can’t, because he begged me to take you.” He downed his drink and shrugged off the hand she placed on his arm.

“Please, just stay with me.”

“I can’t.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve already lost my dowry. What else are you going to gamble away? We are going to lose everything.”

Pax stood and headed towards the door. “I’ll see you at the room later tonight.” The door swung shut behind him and she was alone. Keeping her head high she ignored the looks she received from the other people in the room and made her way towards an empty table. Just as she was about to sit down the chair was swept out from under her. She turned to see Mendoza standing behind her with a smile.

“Madam?” She sat down and he pushed her chair in, then circled around the table. “You seem to be alone for dinner this evening. Might I join you?”

“Of course, Mister…”

He swept off his hat in a flourish, and gave her a small bow. “Antonio Castaños Mendoza, my dear.” He sat and raised a hand to get the attention of the serving girl. “Two drinks for me and my new friend, and I’ll have the stew.” He turned to Amber. “Order whatever you would like.”

She pretended to look surprised. “Really?”

“I am not your husband, querida, you may eat what you choose with me.” She ordered the stew and smiled at Mendoza. “Now tell me your name.”

“Amber Grant,” she answered, using Pax’s last name as her own.

“Amber,” he commented, looking her up and down with a leer, “a fiery name for such a fiery beauty as yourself. What brings you to Caión?”

She accepted the drink he handed to her and shot a quick glance at Deacon behind the bar to ensure she was drinking the right glass. He nodded and she took a sip, tasting mostly water. “My husband is in trade, so we are stopping here before returning to Ireland.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Six months, but we’ve been traveling for most of it. I can’t wait to call one place home, settle down, and raise a family.” She dropped her gaze. “If only I could convince Paxton.” Just then their food was delivered and Amber untied the shawl from around her neck, at which point Mendoza saw the diamond necklace. She watched him as she picked up her spoon and began eating, saw the way his eyes widened as he calculated the size and clarity, could practically see his brain working to estimate the cost.

“That’s a pretty piece you’re wearing,” he commented, appearing nonchalant.

“Thank you, Señor. It is a family heirloom and though I’m sure Paxton would love to get his hands on it, it belongs to me.” She laughed, her fingers tracing the cold stones. “He hates when I wear it but I feel much safer with it around my neck than leaving it anywhere where he can get it.”

“It’s a shame that such a beautiful woman should have an insensitive cad for a husband.”

She twisted her face into one of disgust, using a mental image of her uncle as inspiration. “He has quite a few gambling debts and my necklace would go far in clearing them, but I simply won’t let him have it. It belonged to my mother, and her mother, and her mother before her.”

“You are smart to keep it from him. It would be a waste to let that precious keepsake fall into the wrong hands,” he said, and then finished his ale. “Another drink?”

“Do they have any Spanish wine?” She turned in her chair to follow his finger to the bar, where she saw dozens of bottles stacked behind Deacon.

“We are known for our sweet wine. Shall I pick one for you?”

“Oh yes, thank you.” He called over the serving girl and in rapid Spanish asked for another mug of ale for himself, and for a glass of the strongest wine they served.

“She’s going to bring you the house specialty,” he lied. Amber gave no indication that she understood Spanish. Upon drinking the wine she found the taste appealing, were it not so watered down. But she drank it quickly, and the next glass he called over. By then the sun had set and the dinner patrons had begun to filter out, replaced by a rowdier drinking crowd.

“Querida, I wonder if you would like to continue our conversation in the privacy of my room. I can have some more wine brought up and you can tell me all about this town of Boston.”

“Señor Mendoza,” she said, slurring her words, “I don’t think that is such a good idea. After all, I am a married woman”

“Ah, forgive me.” He waited until he thought she wasn’t looking and ordered two more drinks.

She supposed some women might find him handsome, though she did not. He was tall, but still several inches shorter than Logan, and his frame was smaller. His skin was dark from the sun, his hands callused. His dark hair was long and untamed, and he had a black moustache that he had a propensity to twirl when he was saying something he thought impressive. Though she found him repulsive, she pretended he was the most interesting person she had ever met, laughing at all his jokes and begging for more stories about Spain.

Looking up now she realized that he was watching her, awaiting a reply.

“I’m sorry, I must have drifted off. What did you say?”

He waved a hand as he stood. “It is not important. What is important is for you to lie down and rest. Come,” he said, taking the empty glass from her hand, “I will take you to my room, and you can shut your eyes for a few minutes. As a friend, I don’t advise you walk back to your inn alone at this hour, in your current state. Rest, and then I will escort you back to your husband untouched.”

She stumbled to her feet, allowing him to catch her. “Very well, I suppose a few minutes couldn’t hurt. I am quite sleepy.” He slid an arm about her waist to steady her as he led her towards the back staircase. Amber made certain to trip over more than one step, causing him to tighten his hold on her and think her much drunker than she was.

When they reached his room she looked around. A large bed, an armoire against the wall, several dressers, a separate area for bathing and for eating, and an open door that led onto a balcony. She shivered as a breeze blew in. “Cold?” he asked, moving to close the door.

She grabbed his arm to stop him. “I left my wrap downstairs! It must have fallen beneath my chair. What if somebody finds it and takes it?”

“Relax querida, I shall go get it for you. You just sit down and rest, and help yourself to another drink. I will return momentarily.” She waited until he left the room and let out a sigh of relief. Just being around him tried her patience, and it took every ounce of willpower not to let on how much she despised him. He was the exact opposite of Logan, and it was strange to her that two men who shared the same profession could be so radically different.

Wondering where Logan was now, she poured a glass of wine and retrieved the small pouch from the front of her bodice, where she had concealed it before leaving her inn. Hearing footsteps, she quickly dumped the herbs into the drink and shoved the bag under a chair cushion.

The door creaked open. “Querida, are you feeling any better?” She dropped into the chair just as he entered the room.

“Yes, a little bit, thank you.”

“Good. I found your shawl, and I brought you another bottle of sparkling wine. Shall I pour you a glass?” She nodded and at once wished she knew where it came from. If Deacon had given the bottle to Mendoza she could safely drink it without worrying, but chances were Mendoza grabbed it while the Irishman was distracted. Which means, she thought to herself as she accepted the glass, there could be anything in it.

He watched her raise the glass to her mouth. “Let’s have a toast,” she suggested abruptly, as she stood and stumbled to the dresser where she had left his drink.

He lifted an eyebrow. “To what shall we toast?”

“To new friendships,” she offered, handing it to him.

“To new friendships,” he replied and clinked his glass against hers. She lifted hers again and tipped it against her closed lips, careful not to let a single drop of the liquid into her mouth.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as she began to wander around the room. “This is a lovely inn. How long have you been staying here?”

“I come and go when my work allows it, but I have been frequenting this establishment for about seven years now.”

“Do you know much about the town?  Paxton won’t let me leave our inn during the day when he’s not around, but maybe if you talk to him he’ll let me explore. If I’m with you, of course.”

“Of course.”

A bead of sweat trickled down her cheek. She hoped that he would finish his drink and begin feeling the effects of the herbs soon, as she was finding it harder and harder to act relaxed in his presence. And how long could she keep on pretending to drink before he noticed that the volume in her glass never changed?

Another glance in his direction revealed him sitting calmly at the table, legs crossed, watching her. She had to keep stalling. “You’ve been so kind to me tonight, I really have enjoyed myself. It’s been a wonderful evening.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately it seems to have taken a bad turn.”

Her nails left half-moon shaped indents in her palms as she turned towards him. “What do you mean?”

“Our new friendship has an element of dishonesty, for if you had been drinking as much as you appeared to be, including that drugged glass I just handed you, you would be unconscious by now. And if I had been drinking this one, judging by the smell, I’d be in much the same state,” he declared, tipping his full flagon of wine onto the carpet.

Warning bells went off in her head and her stomach plummeted, but she forbade herself to give up. Logan was relying on her. “Señor, I do not know what you are talking about. I have always had a strong constitution about me, my mother said it came from my Irish roots.” She sauntered up to him and traced her finger down the length of his unbuttoned waistcoat. “But if you had wanted me to act very wicked, you only had to ask. There was no need to get me drunk.”

“Cut the act, you little bitch. Where is Jeffries?”

“I don’t know what you are ta—” He raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face, sending her reeling to the floor. She gained her balance and quickly hiked up her skirt to grab her knife, but was stopped by the cold metal of a pistol pressed against her head, and the sound of it being cocked.

Logan had sensed that things were beginning to unravel when Mendoza had reappeared after going back downstairs. He had been watching the two of them closely the entire night, and now was listening from his position on the balcony. He heard the pirate offer Amber another drink, and he prayed that she would have the sense not to take it, but he reassured himself that she was a clever girl and would figure out a way to distract him.

Mendoza’s confession came as a cold shock to him but he knew that revealing himself now would be a deadly mistake for both of them, and so he waited.

Then he heard a pistol being cocked and his heart stopped dead in his chest.

Mendoza’s oily voice came calling through the open door. “El Tigre, you might as well crawl out from whatever rock you’re hiding under, unless you want her returned to you in pieces.” Every thought Logan had about waiting for the opportune moment vanished, and he rushed into the room.

Amber struggled in Mendoza’s arms when she saw Logan, but the pirate’s grip around her hair only tightened, the pistol only pressed deeper into her temple.

“Ah, there you are. I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve gotten a whore to do your work for you, Jeffries. You always were a cowardly sort.”

“Let her go, Mendoza, your problem is with me,” he said, stepping forward.

“Drop your sword, and your gun on the floor.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Amber cried, trying to break away, but Mendoza caught her before she could escape and brought the butt of his pistol down against her head. A stream of blood began trickling from her scalp.

Logan immediately disarmed himself and stood, palms open. “Let her go, Mendoza.”

“Not a chance, Jeffries. And if you go for the knife in your boot I will blow her head off.”  He saw the fear on Logan’s face and laughed, jerking Amber back against him. “I must say that I’m shocked that after all these years your weakness turned out to be a woman. I think I’ll watching enjoy your face as I kill her, and then,” he added, pointing the gun at Logan, “I’ll kill you.”

“You bastard,” Amber spat, straining against him.

“Amber, be quiet.”

“She’s a mouthy bitch, isn’t she? But I have to admire her spirit. I bet she’s a wildcat on her back.” He appeared thoughtful. “Perhaps I’ll keep her for myself after I’ve killed you. After all, she could be fun.”

“I have a better idea,” Logan said.

“You’re hardly in a position to barter with me, el Tigre, seems to me I hold all the cards.”

“Release Amber and take me instead.”

“Now why the hell would I do something like that?”

“Because,” Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest, “you know that the price on my head is nearly triple the amount on yours, but only if I’m brought in alive. Your government wants me for their own purposes.”

Mendoza trained the gun on Logan again. “And?”

“And if you let her go, if you let her leave here tonight, untouched, I will go with you willingly. Without a fight, as your prisoner.”

“Logan no, you can’t!”

The Spaniard ignored her. “How do I know you aren’t pulling another trick?”

Logan reached down slowly and pulled out the knife that was wedged in his boot, placing it on top of his belt with his sword and pistol. He stood. “I’m unarmed, search me if you don’t believe me.”

Mendoza’s gaze narrowed as he transferred his gun to his other hand and put his fingers into his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle. At once a burly man lumbered into the room. “Check him for weapons,” Mendoza ordered.

Amber watched helplessly as Logan was roughly patted down. “He’s clean.”

“Tie him.”

When his hands were bound in front of him he was pushed to his knees. Amber’s tears ran red with the blood that seeped from her wound, but her fear far outweighed her pain. She longed to reach out to him, to stop this nightmare from unfolding further, but she was paralyzed. With two guns aimed at him she dare not move.

“You have me,” Logan said, “now let her leave.”

Mendoza laughed. “With you bound and helpless, who’s to stop me from taking what I want?” Her breath hitched as his rough hands grabbed her breast and kneaded it painfully.

Logan’s eyes took on a murderous glint. “I swear to God, Mendoza, if you touch her I will throw myself onto the first sword I see, ruining your chances at getting the bounty, and the satisfaction of doing it yourself.”

Mendoza sighed. “You’re lucky, girl, that I so badly want to watch the life drain from his body,” he said as he pulled the sash from around his hips and bound her hands.

“She doesn’t need to be tied if you’re letting her go.”

“She does if I don’t want her trying to stab me again,” Mendoza explained as he spun her around to face him, his breath warm on her face as he spoke. “If I see you or any of his men in this country again I will kill him. That includes those kids and the bartender downstairs. You’ll find him unconscious in the courtyard, I’ll wager. Now, one final thing…” His smile widened as he reached for the clasp at the back of her neck, flicking it open with a finger and allowing the heavy necklace to drop into his palm. “Hold onto this for me, will you?” He tossed the diamonds towards the other man, who caught them with a smirk. His grip on her loosened and she broke free, stumbling to Logan and falling before him.

“Please don’t do this,” she sobbed as he raised his restrained hands and wiped the blood from her face. Mendoza rolled his eyes.

“Love, I need you to trust me,” Logan whispered. “You have to leave.”

“I can’t leave you here!”

“You have no choice. I need to know that you’re safe.”

“That’s enough,” Mendoza interrupted as he hauled her to her feet.

“Do as I said Amber, go home.”

Mendoza dragged her towards the door, disregarding her attempts to fight him off. She could not tear her gaze from Logan, even when she was shoved into the hallway. “Leave,” Mendoza commanded. “Get in your little ship and go home, just like he said. There’s no place for you in this world.” He stepped back into the room, his hand on the door. “And if you’re seen again he’ll die.”

Her heart heavy with despair, she looked to Logan one last time. His eyes seemed to be trying to communicate with her, but her vision was blurred and she could not decipher his meaning. Panic filled her that she would never know what he intended to say to her, but at that moment he lifted his chin, and in a calm voice stated: “Ego mos reperio vos.”

Before she could translate it in her head, Mendoza’s man knocked Logan to the ground and the door was slammed in her face.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Amber stood staring at the door for a full minute before she found the will to move. As if in a daze she shuffled down the stairs and, eyes unseeing, made her way back to the inn. She was oblivious of the strange looks she was receiving, deaf to the voices that called out to her.

Pax was waiting for her outside and instantly was on her, slicing through her bonds and dragging her towards the light to better examine the gash on her forehead. “What the hell happened? Where’s Logan?” She pulled herself from his grasp and hugged her arms to her chest, not meeting his gaze. “If you can make it upstairs by yourself I’ll go find Eli.” She said nothing, but brushed by him and entered the inn, climbing the stairs to her room where she sat in silence. When Eli arrived with Pax at his heels, he demanded she tell him what happened.

“So what, we’re just going to leave him here?” Pax cried in outrage when she had finished her story.

Eli glared at the younger man. “Of course we are you bloody idiot,” he said, his hands shaking, a distinct British accent creeping into his voice. “You heard what happened. If we stay they’ll shoot him.”

“Even if we leave they’re still going to shoot him!”

“No,” Amber whispered. “Mendoza wants the money.”

“But he’s our Captain, we can’t abandon him here.”

“You have no choice, Pax, and in his absence I’m Captain. I need you to get Anton and have him find Deacon. Tell him not to waste time trying to rouse him if he is still unconscious, just get him to the beach. Then round up everyone else. We are leaving in one hour.”

“But Eli—”

“Don’t question me, boy. Just go.”

Amber was aware of Eli as he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “What did he say to you?” She shook her head, but squeezed her arm and turned her face towards his. “I know you’re in shock right now, but it’s crucial that you tell me again everything as it happened, sparing no detail, especially what he said.”

She took a deep breath and recounted her entire evening in full, struggling to speak of their capture and his surrender. When she was done Eli leaned back. “Ego mos reperio vos. What is that, Latin?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you say you spoke Latin?  On the boat ride here you said you spoke Spanish, French and Latin. Can you translate it?”

“I’m not sure…”

“Sweetheart, please try.”

She moved beyond the crippling fear to search through the haze of her memory, trying to recall her classics lessons from years before. “Well, ego means I, and I think vos means you.”

“So Logan is giving you a message. I know this is difficult for you, but keep going. What about mos reperio?”

“Reperio means…to find?  And mos may translate to will, but I’m not certain.”

“Ego mos reperio vos…I will find you?” His face lit up. “Amber, that’s brilliant, it means he has a plan to escape! But, wait, why are you crying?”

“It’s all my fault,” she sputtered through her tears. “If I hadn’t demanded to help, if I hadn’t been so stubborn, insisting I could take care of myself, he’d still be here. If I hadn’t messed up my one job he wouldn’t have had to surrender himself.”

“Stop it.”

“One simple job and I couldn’t even do that properly—”

“I said stop it!” Eli roared as he lurched to his feet, his face contorted in anger. “Stop everything; stop speculating about what might have been, stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop claiming responsibility. It’s not your fault.” He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his voice quieting. “Mendoza was smarter than any of us gave him credit for; it’s likely he’d have seen through any trap we laid for him. It’s unfortunate, but what Logan did was brave and he did it so that we could escape, and get you safely to England.”

“England,” she repeated numbly, “right.”

“Come,” he said, offering her his hand and pulling her off the bed. “I need you to pack up everything and be ready to go in twenty minutes, can you do that for me?” She nodded. “Good girl.”

He watched her from the doorway as she began folding Logan’s clothes, laying them in a pile on the dresser, her face void of expression.

When he returned she was ready with everything all tied up in a neat satchel, her wound cleaned and dressed. Silently she followed him through the streets and down the narrow path between the cliffs onto the beach, where there were two boats waiting. The rest of the men were already throwing the last of their things inside. Amber ignored Anton’s sympathetic smile and outstretched hand and climbed into the boat, clutching her satchel tight against her chest.

The sun was rising over the horizon as they pulled alongside the Imperial Shadow, but she took no notice of it. As soon as the ladder was dropped over the side of the ship she raced up it, throwing herself onto the deck.

The expectant faces of the crew, who were no doubt awaiting victorious news, were too much for her to bear. She waved away their questions as she ran into Logan’s empty cabin, slamming the door shut behind her and crumpling to the floor in a heap of rose silk. With frantic hands she began tearing at her dress, but found to her dismay that the seams were firm and unaffected by her clawing nails. The weight pressing into her thigh reminded her of the knife that was still strapped to her leg, and without hesitation she pulled it from its sheath and cut herself from the restrictive garment.

As she stared at the wrinkled pink gown in her hands she felt remorse for her hasty actions. Lifting it and examining it in the early morning sun’s rays, she found that the only damage was in places that could be easily mended. With care she folded it and laid it on the top of her trunk, and climbed into the wide bed.

Logan’s familiar scent wafted towards her as her head dropped onto his pillow. To prevent any more tears she ripped the pillow from under her and held it at arms length, ready to fling it across the room. But she thought better of it and hugged it against her body, falling into a dreamless sleep.

She spent the rest of the journey in a detached state of wakefulness, rising at noon to wander around the ship aimlessly, usually ending up perched on the main topsail yard, watching the ocean roll past them. She exchanged very few words with the men. She imagined their expressions of sadness and compassion to be accusatory, and brushed off attempts at conversation for fear of their scorn. Eli had again tried to reassure her, to tell her that no one held her responsible for the circumstances and that Logan would find a way to escape, but it was all in vain.

She was blankly staring at the page of a book when there was a knock at the door of Logan’s cabin, a week into the journey. “Just leave it on the table Anton, thank you.”

“I was hoping I could join you tonight, and talk.”

She closed her book at the sound of Eli’s voice. “I’m not in much of a mood for talking,” she confessed, but gestured for him to join her anyway.

“How are you?” She shot him a dark look as she reached for a roll. “Fine, stupid question. How about you tell me your plans upon arriving in England instead?”

“I am going to find my uncle and stay with him.”

“And then?”

She shrugged. “I’ll get married.”

Pity crossed his handsome face. “So you’re still set upon this silly notion?”

Her hand gripped the fork. “I have to, nothing has changed. I’m required to marry someone, or risk losing everything my mother worked so hard for.”

“So, you’re just going to marry the first Prince or Duke who proposes?”

“I don’t know about a Prince, but essentially, yes,” she replied in an empty voice.

“What about courtship? What about compatibility? Hell, what about love?” He watched the color drain from her face. “Oh Amber,” he sighed, “you really did love the bastard, didn’t you?”

“Don’t talk about him as if he’s already dead,” she choked.

He walked around the table and knelt beside her, cupping her shaking hands between his own. “Of course he’s not dead. That man has escaped from stickier situations hundreds of times before. He’s probably on a ship right now, just a few days behind us.”  His face did not confirm his belief.

She shook her head. “Even if that were so, which I doubt it is, I would still be in this predicament.”  Eli chewed on his lower lip and stayed silent. “Please, can we not talk about him anymore? Maybe in a year or two once I’m happily married with several children, you can stop by for tea and we will laugh about that time I wore breeches and learned to fight and fell in love with a pirate Captain.”

“I doubt they would let someone like me into the drawing room of someone like you,” he mused as he walked back to his own chair. “But if I may, I’d like to talk about the protocol of your arrival in England. We can’t exactly pull up to the pier in the Thames, Jolly Roger flying and deposit a girl of some nobility who we kidnapped two months ago.”

“I can see why you’d wish to avoid that.”

“We can slip in relatively undetected in the middle of the night and bring you ashore, but we won’t be able to stick around to make sure you get settled. And it’s probably for the best that you don’t mention any of our names, or the ship at all.”

“How shall I account for my delay?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Suppose you say that the ship you started out on, what was the name?”

“The Queen Charlotte.”

“Right, suppose it got caught in a storm and had to pull into the nearest port for several weeks to repair. Once you realized it was going to take longer than expected, you began to look for another ship. You found a large merchant vessel that agreed to take you on, but England was only one of several stops. That would explain why you’re so late arriving, and why your family would not be able to personally thank the crew that brought you here safely.”

“Sounds like a well thought out excuse.”

“Do you think you’d be able to lie to your family?

“Of course. If I can muster up the fake enthusiasm to search for a husband, I can easily withhold the details of my association with el Tigre and his vicious crew.”

Eli smiled and leaned over the table to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re the strongest female I’ve ever had the fortune to meet.” He gathered the plates and headed to the door. “We should be arriving in three days time. Will you be ready to disembark by then?” She nodded. “Well then, goodnight.”

As he shut the door behind him, she turned to look around the cabin. Each fight, each confrontation, each bout of passion that had taken place in this room came flooding back to her. So many memories, more good than bad, so many experiences with Logan on this ship that they defined her. She had been exposed to adventure, ecstasy and love, and now she had to bottle everything up inside and put on a mask of indifference. Pretend she hadn’t changed. It would be difficult, painfully so, but she would do it. She had known from the start that she would have to.

True, she had flirted with fantasies, foolish plans constructed by her heart. But even if Logan had admitted his love for her, asked her to marry him, she would have to say no. And it would likely kill her. So perhaps this was for the best, she tried to reassure herself. With Logan gone, she would be able to put her feelings aside and begin forgetting him, as impossible as that looked right now.

Too wound up to sleep, she threw open her trunks and began folding and organizing her things. As she turned up the lamp a flash caught her eye and she looked down at the ring on her finger. It hit her suddenly, a cold vice squeezing her heart until she fought to breathe. She slid it off. With the band lying flat in her palm, her other hand groped the table behind her for the lamp, her fingers wrapping around the handle and lifting it to illuminate the ring. She couldn’t wear this; she was looking to find a husband, not appear as if she already had one. Her brain urged her body to throw it into the corner of the room, toss it under the bed, but it wouldn’t respond. Instead, she stood with the lantern and pushed open the door.

Avoiding the crew, she descended into the hold where she used the lamp to light a pathway through the maze of crates. Weaving her way among them and stopping occasionally to check their contents, she finally halted in front of one that looked familiar. Prying off the lid and dropping it to the side, she began sifting through the sparkling gems and strands of pearls, blind to the worth of each expensive piece of jewelry that passed through her hands.

She located a black velvet pouch. Untying the drawstring she poured the contents into her hand, the ball of tangled snakelike gold chains cool in her palm. She went to work untangling them, examining each one before slipping it back into the bag. She freed a thin, rope chain from the mess and held it up. It was much more delicate and feminine than the others, but when she pulled on it she found it was surprisingly strong. He fingers fumbled with the small clasp, eventually freeing it and threading the chain through the center of the ring. Then she hung it around her neck.

The ring was hidden beneath her clothes so that no one would know she was wearing it. She replaced the rest of the jewelry into the crate and was positioning the lid when she heard a noise behind her and turned. Puck was sprawled on his back, his too-large paws swiping at a silver chain that had fallen from the box. She scooped the kitten up and held him tight, his surprised mew turning into a content purr. The cat still in her arms, she finished putting everything away and returned to her cabin. She dropped Puck onto the bed where he kneaded the soft pillow, his rumbling purr still reverberating through his small body. She smiled for the first time in a week. After slipping off her dress, she crawled into bed beside the cat and moved him over so that she could lay her head on the pillow that still smelled like Logan. The purring lulled her to sleep.

The stars shone overhead as Anton lifted Amber’s trunks into the longboat, the crew standing back, uncertain how to approach her and say goodbye. There was an awkward silence hanging in the humid air.

Suddenly, Johnny and Henry pushed through the crowd and ran up to Amber. “Oh good, we didn’t miss you,” Henry exclaimed, as he thrust a wooden box at her. “We wanted you to have Puck. We know how much you like him, and he seems to like you best anyway.” A frustrated meow came from inside the crate, and a pink nose tried to poke its way through the air holes that were carved into the wood. She thanked Henry and let Eli take the box from her as Pax approached with a canvas bundle.

“I don’t know how much use you’ll have for these in your new life,” he said, lifting the corner to reveal her weapons, sharpened and polished. “But I want you to take them with you just in case. If anything, they’d look awful smart hanging above your fireplace.” She accepted the bundle with a nod.

Next, Abe limped to the front of the crowd. “Miss Amber, I made you your favorite honeycakes to take with you, and the boys helped me to write down the recipe so you can tell the cook at that fancy new house of yours that Abe says to make them for your breakfast.” The lump in her throat grew larger and larger as the crew members presented her with thoughtful gifts: a new lock for her trunks from Deacon, presented with a blush and an apology for breaking hers in the first place, a conch shell from Creed, a small wooden pirate that Anton had painstakingly whittled. The figurine had long curly hair.

“Is this me?” she asked in surprise, looking up and seeing Anton’s bandaged hands. Wringing them together now, he grinned and nodded.

“I worked real hard to make it as pretty as you, but this is as close as I could get. Went through a lot of wood, too.”

At last Johnny stepped forward, a homemade book with a crude leather binding in his hands. “I wrote this for you,” he said as he held it out to her, and dropped his voice so that only she could hear him. “It ain’t much, but I wanted to thank you for making me to learn how to read and write.”  Scrawled on the cover was the title: The Adventures of Ruby Red and Puck. Beneath that was a drawing of a redheaded pirate and a buccaneer cat burying a treasure chest. Tears welled up behind her eyes as she smiled. “It’s wonderful Johnny, thank you,” she said to the boy, who took her by surprise by throwing himself at her. She staggered backwards and wrapped her arms around him, holding him for a moment until he pulled away, wiping a dirty hand across his eyes and leaving a smudge.

“Amber, we need to leave soon,” Eli said quietly behind her. She squared her shoulders and blinked back tears. Anton got into the boat that he would help row, taking Puck’s box with him. She thanked everyone, received embraces and encouraging words from the crewmembers. Picking up the skirts of her simple dress, she climbed into the longboat. Eli said a few words to the crew and followed her.

She lifted the box with Puck from the bench and sat, scaring the kitten into mewing again. She whispered soothing words. When that didn’t work, she pushed a finger into a hole and searched around until she found the animal’s chin, and began scratching. Puck quieted down and issued a low purr as Pax and Deacon sat down on the opposite bench and the boat was lowered into the water.

“You ready Amber?” Eli asked.

She gave a futile smile. “Of course.” The men began rowing and Amber watched as one by one the faces peering over the side of the boat disappeared. Puck settled at the bottom of the box and fell asleep. It was the middle of the night and the water was calm, but Amber was wide-awake.

The ride was completed in silence, the one lantern in the center of the boat shining to guide their way until they reached the docks, at which point they blew it out. The flickering lights from the deserted harbor provided necessary illumination for them to steer the boat into an empty space.

“We’ll let you off here,” Eli whispered, turning in his seat to face her. “We can’t stay, but a magistrate should walk through here within the next half an hour, doing rounds. Tell him what I told you, and he’ll help you get home.” She bobbed her head once to show she understood.

Eli and Deacon rowed the boat closer to the dock, while Anton hopped onto the ladder and extended an arm for the first trunk that Pax hoisted up to him. The second trunk was exchanged in the same fashion, the third—the one holding her books—requiring all four men to lift it onto the dock. Next, she handed the small wooden box to Anton, who took it with care and placed it beside her luggage. At last, she embraced each man for a final time and climbed out of the boat, standing by her trunks and watching as the pirates rowed off into the early morning fog.

Feeling alone and scared, she took a seat on her trunk and pried the top from Puck’s crate. He blinked up at her, yawned and stretched in the small confines of the box, and allowed her to lift him out. She slid the box to the ground and placed the kitten on her lap, stroking him until he fell asleep again.

That was how the magistrate found her, asleep with a black and white mound of fur in her arms. He had seen some strange things in his years of walking the harbor, but this was a first. Glancing around him and seeing no one else in the vicinity of the girl, he cleared his throat.

Amber sleepily opened her eyes, and upon seeing the magistrate in front of her, she smiled. “Hello, I was hoping you could help me find my family.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Amber was seated in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection and fiddling with the gold ring around her neck when there was a knock at the door. She quickly tucked the ring back into the bodice of her chemise.

The door opened and Olivia James, her nineteen-year-old cousin, entered in a buzz of excitement. “Are you nervous about this evening?” she asked, scooping up the sleeping Puck and depositing him on her lap. “I know I would be, if it were my first London party. Lord, I would be a bundle of nerves!”

Amber smiled. She had taken a genuine liking to her vivacious cousin, who, along with the rest of her extended family, had accepted her the minute she crossed the threshold a week ago. They had expressed their sympathy for the passing of Molly, and while her aunt Elinor and uncle Alfred, her father’s brother, reminisced about Amber’s parents, Olivia took Amber under her wing. In just seven days Amber felt she knew everything about everyone who was worth mentioning, thanks to her cousin’s gossip, even though she hadn’t yet been introduced to anyone outside the family.

But tonight the Jameses had accepted an invitation to the Whitmore’s annual gala. And word about the beautiful American stranger had spread quickly, eliciting a large number of RSVPs for the party.

“Georgie says her mother had to hire extra help from town to help with all of the guests,” Olivia informed her, referring to her best friend, Georgina Whitmore, whom Amber had met earlier that week. “Not that you should be scared,” she added.

“I’m not scared, but perhaps I am a little apprehensive. This is the largest party I have ever been to, and the first one outside the States. I hope my etiquette lessons were enough preparation.”

“You’ll probably do better than I will,” Olivia said with a chuckle. “Mother says I’m always making mistakes. But if you’re at a loss, just look at the person beside you and copy what they are doing. That’s what I do.”

Another knock sounded at the door and Anne, the lady’s maid the Jameses had supplied Amber with, poked her head in. “Are you all finished bathing, Miss?”  Amber replied that she was, and Anne hurried over and picked up the ivory-handled brush that lay on the table. Amber was finding it difficult to readjust herself to being looked after. After so long at sea, it was strange to have someone brush her hair again.

As Anne began pinning her curls on top of her head, Aunt Elinor entered with a large bundle in her arms. “Here is your dress dear, just in time. I’m so glad we could get the alterations finished before tonight.”  She laid it beside Olivia on the bed and turned to her daughter. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready as well?  I believe I saw Mary wandering the halls, looking for you.” As Olivia flounced from the room, Elinor called after her: “No dawdling, I do not want to be late again!”

Her daughter out of sight, she turned to her niece, who was quietly regarding her own reflection. “I hope Olivia has not been saying anything to make you nervous, Amber. I assure you, you’ll do splendidly.”

“Thank you, Aunt Elinor,” Amber replied, meeting her aunt’s smile in the mirror. She winced as a hairpin was jabbed into her scalp.

“Sorry Miss, but that was the final one. If you could hand me that comb—” she watched Anne’s eyes widen as her fingers brushed Amber’s skin, and she pulled back her hands with an embarrassed flush.

“I apologize, my hands became quite rough while I was…aboard the ship.”

Her aunt glanced at the clock mounted about the mantle and stopped Anne from going to fetch a bowl of water. “There is not enough time to soak them before we leave. I suppose you’ll just have to keep your gloves on while you dance.” She leaned over to give Amber a small hug. “Do not fret, the gentlemen will not care that your hands are callused. They will be far too distracted by your beauty. Now finish getting ready, while I get dressed and round up my family.”

With her hair finished, Amber stood and allowed herself to be laced into her corset, gripping the bedpost as the laces were pulled tight. Next, the pannier-supported petticoat was tied about her hips. On top of that went her ivory silk petticoat, adorned with pale yellow roses, and her matching embroidered stomacher was pinned to her corset. Finally, with the help of a second maid, she was sewn into the French-blue silk gown, edged in lace and embroidered with the same yellow roses.

The gown had been made by Madam Lorelei and shipped by Maxwell in a separate trunk. Her aunt had declared it suitable, if a little outdated, and sent it off to her seamstress to have the sides let out to allow for the whalebone hoop frame that had become popular in England a few years before.

Now, with a double strand of pearls tied about her neck—her own necklace hidden beneath her chemise—and a pair of white gloves on her hands, she was ready. “We can’t do anything to hide your freckles, but don’t forget to pinch your cheeks for a nice flush,” Anne instructed as she handed Amber a matching silk fan. She thanked the maid and hurried downstairs, where her uncle and cousin Dominic were waiting for Elinor and Olivia.

“You look lovely tonight dear,” her Uncle Alfred told her, and Dominic grinned; one very similar to Olivia’s mischievous smile, Amber noted.

He winked at her. “Wearing that dress, you won’t have any trouble finding a suitor.”

“You better keep those Whitmore boys in check then,” his father warned him.

Dominic’s smile vanished. “If Rafe or Caleb so much as think about dancing with her, I will—” Luckily Olivia and her aunt joined them then, cutting off Dominic’s threats, and they all piled into the carriage that would take them to the Whitmore’s house.

The ride was a short one, which was a blessing to Amber. As overwhelmed as she already was, she fervently believed that to listen to more of her cousin’s excited chatter would frighten her from ever leaving the carriage. She was trying to remember all she had learned from her governess so many years ago, and with each name Olivia mentioned she found it harder to recall the steps of a quadrille, or which spoon to use to eat soup. She knew this was not a formal dinner party and so knowing which spoon to use was not important, but it was comforting to run through her etiquette lessons in her head anyway.

Olivia’s voice interrupted her mental exercise to inform her that they had arrived. Amber was helped down from the carriage and hurried inside a magnificent house before she could catch her breath, and as she looked around, she found it hard to. The entry hall she was standing in was grander than anything she had seen before, with polished marbled floors leading to a large staircase, high vaulted ceilings, and huge framed portraits on every wall. Before she could look at the paintings, however, Olivia whisked her into the ballroom. This room was even larger than the first, and filled with what appeared to be every member of the ton.

Amber had been to balls back in Boston, but none could compare to the size and splendor of the Whitmores’. A dozen chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one containing several tiers of candles that illuminated the room. A stage had been erected at one end of the room for the orchestra, and an entire wall was devoted to tables piled high with food and drink. On the opposite wall, glass doors were propped open to allow guests to wander onto the balcony for fresh air. All about her, men and women danced and laughed, dressed in their finest. Amber watched with amusement as a woman wearing a monstrous gown covered in ruffles and bows and a wig that was at least a foot tall, struggled to remain upright. As the woman was jostled by the crowd she lost her balance and grabbed the arm of a gentleman beside her, nearly toppling them both to the floor. Amber hid her laugh behind her gloved hand.

She was pleased to find her apprehension waning as, despite her reserve about finding a husband, she began to enjoy herself. Logan’s face again appeared in her mind, but she pushed it aside. “Come on,” Olivia said, dragging her further into the room. “We need to stand where everyone can see us, and where we can see everyone,” her voice dropping to whisper as she smiled wickedly. “Over there is Lord Birchmore. His wife recently died without producing an heir, so Mother says he’s already begun to look for a new one. Wife, that is, not heir. And standing by the window with the glass of champagne is Lord Bedford. His father is ill and he’s next in line for the Baron of Warwick, and I’ve heard his mother is pressuring him to find a young wife.”

“And who is the man striding towards us?” Amber asked in a rush, eyeing the attractive gentleman walking through the crowd.

“Richard Cobham,” Olivia whispered from behind her fan.

“Title?”

“Now Amber, I never thought of you as a snob,” chided Dominic from behind them, offering them each a glass of champagne. “But if you must know, young Cobham is the Viscount of Kent.” Nothing more could be passed between the cousins then, because the man had reached them.

“Olivia, my dear, it is a pleasure to see you again as always. Dominic,” he acknowledged with a nod. Then his gaze transferred to Amber. “And who is this vision before me?”

Dom rolled his eyes but made the introductions. Amber smiled as Cobham made her promise to save the next dance for him, and watched as he walked away. She was then bombarded with introductions, as Cobham’s approach apparently opened the door for curious, gossiping women and interested, eligible men to investigate the new arrival. Within minutes her head was swimming, trying to remember names and which dance had been promised to whom.

She drank the champagne that was handed to her, ate the food that was brought to her, and danced with the gentlemen who offered for her. Less than an hour later her feet hurt from dancing in her new slippers, and she felt her smile was frozen on her face. She was still enjoying herself, but was beginning to tire of all the attention. As late in the season as it was she had not anticipated that her arrival would be of much interest, but as Cobham told her as they were dancing, her presence was extremely refreshing.

“I had begun to fear that my coming to London was again in vain, but I hope you don’t mind me saying, dear Amber, that your being here has changed my outlook entirely.” Taken back by his confession and uncertain how to respond, she just smiled at him. As the dance ended she excused herself and wandered back to Olivia, who was talking to Georgina and an attractive older woman with curly blonde hair. As she approached, the woman turned to her and smiled.

“I believe it is to you I owe my thanks,” she said pleasantly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are Olivia’s secret cousin, are you not?”

Before Amber could reply, her aunt approached and laid a gloved hand on the blond woman’s arm. “Penelope, what a wonderful soiree. Allow me to introduce my niece, Amber Townsend. Amber, this is Countess Whitmore, our hostess for this evening.”

“If it weren’t for you, my dear girl, my party would not be such a great success,” exclaimed the countess, opening her arms and gesturing towards the guests. “Lady Dawson is positively seething over there by the refreshments,” she added with a wink.

“Every year, Mother and Lady Dawson attempt to outdo each other by throwing the biggest, most extravagant parties,” Georgina chimed in.

The countess sighed. “I’m afraid to say we thought she had us beat this season. Just last month she held a Grecian-themed ball, and had her gardeners recreate the hanging gardens of Babylon!”

“But the gardens were in ancient Mesopotamia…” Amber said in confusion.

Her aunt laughed. “We know that, but most guests decided to overlook her geographical ignorance and enjoy themselves anyway. There were fountains, statues, even men dressed in togas serving wine and grapes.”

Olivia snickered. “The best part of the evening was when Lord Dawson got drunk and stumbled, ripping the toga clear off this one server!  You could see his—”

“That’s quite enough, Olivia,” interjected her mother as she took the countess’ arm and led her towards the balcony, sending the girls a warning glance over her shoulder. Olivia and Georgina erupted into giggles as soon as they were out of earshot.

“You really should have seen it, Amber, it was…educational, to say the least,” Olivia said, laughing.

“Educational?” Georgina shuddered. “I found it revolting. If they all look like that then I have no desire to ever marry and find out for myself.”

“Let’s save the anatomy lessons for a later date,” Amber suggested, glancing around her to make sure nobody could hear their conversation.

“She’s right,” Georgina said, her giggles coming to a halt as she pulled the two girls closer. “Who has heard any delicious gossip?”

As Olivia jumped in with some scandalous news she had overheard, Amber’s mind began to wander. She gazed about the room, half listening to her cousin, and watching the people move about the crowded party. The noise was almost cacophonous. The orchestra was taking a break and it seemed that most guests were doing what they were: gossiping.

Amber took a step away from the two girls and fanned herself as she absorbed the sights and sounds of the party. Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall man with brown hair, and dropped her fan in surprise. She quickly bent to pick it up, but when she straightened the man was gone.

“Did you see someone you know?” asked Georgina from behind her. Amber paused, and then shook her head, turning back to her cousin.

“As I was saying, the man was thought to be dead!”

“And you’re certain this mysterious corpse is walking among us tonight?” Georgie asked, unconvinced.

Olivia was growing impatient. “Look, I don’t know who it is. All I heard was that a maid nearly fainted when she saw him floating down the corridor.”

“Well if he was floating, then I believe you,” mocked Georgie, sharing a smile with Amber. At that moment, the orchestra took up their instruments and resumed playing. The crowds dispersed as people returned to the center of the room to dance, and Amber was approached by Glenn Middleton.

“I believe you promised this dance to me, Miss Amber,” said the young Baron, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor.

“You look a little pale, are you feeling well?” he asked a moment later as he guided her through her turns.

“I am a little lightheaded. All this champagne and spinning is making me dizzy.”

“Shall I fetch you a glass of water?”

“If you don’t mind.” After assuring her of his prompt return and suggesting she find a quiet place to rest, he hurried off, leaving her by herself on the dance floor. As she pushed her way towards the edge of the room she felt a twinge of guilt. Middleton seemed a nice enough character; perhaps she shouldn’t have lied to him about feeling ill.

The cool breeze on her face as she snuck outside was reward enough for her dishonesty, so she slipped past the few people on the balcony and descended the steps into the garden. Her head didn’t hurt. She was just overwhelmed and tired of pretending she felt fine, when inside she still ached.

She walked along the garden path until she came across a round marble fountain, and smoothing her skirts she sat down. The sound of splashing water was relaxing, especially after being trapped for so long. The party had been pleasant enough, nothing she hadn’t prepared herself for. And she was grateful to her family for taking her in. And yet, she couldn’t help feeling that she did not belong.

She knew that on the outside she appeared to fit in, but after so long at sea, being in polite society was dull. She missed the ocean. She itched at her side, where her corset was digging into her skin. She missed the freedom of dressing comfortably, saying what was on her mind, doing as she pleased. And more than anything, she missed the company of her unruly band of pirates.

She had been almost certain that she had seen Eli in the crowd, but as she thought about it now, it was impossible. Eli was gone, along with Pax, Johnny, and everyone else she cared about. Along with Logan. Her hand moved to the necklace hidden beneath her dress, her fingers sliding along the gold chain, warmed by her skin. Her other hand trailed in the water, making small circles as she watched the ripples play out.

A sound behind her made her start, and acting on instinct she reached for the knife strapped to her leg, fumbling when she felt only the silk of her stockings. She jumped to her feet and spun around to see a dark figure hidden in the shadow of a tree.

“You should know better than to come to one of these parties unarmed,” said Logan sardonically as he walked forward into the moonlight.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“You!” she gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as Logan reached her. Her knees buckled and then she found herself collapsing against him as his arms wrapped around to support her. Hot tears began streaming down her face.

“Oh sweetheart, please don’t cry,” he begged, pulling back to look down at her. “It’ll be all right.”  She shook her head, unable to form words. He sat her down on the edge of the fountain and knelt before her, taking her face in his hands. “Look at me, Amber, please.”

She brought her face up to meet his, and another sob escaped her. “I’m so sorry Logan, it was my fault. I left you there to die. I wanted to go back for you but I knew if I did they would kill you, and…” he shushed her, as if she were a child, and tugged her shaking body against him again.

“It was not your fault Amber. I knew the risks going into it, which is why I had wanted to keep you on the boat.”

“And if I had stayed on the boat then you never would have gotten caught!”

“And our mission would have failed.”

“Our mission did fail, Mendoza captured you and—” she stopped as realization struck her. “Where is Mendoza, Logan?”

His eyes were dark. “Dead.”

“How?”

“By his own arrogance. He left me with only one guard, and it was simple enough to knock him out and disarm him. Then I stole into Mendoza’s room and slit his throat.”

“His crew?”

“Swore their allegiance to me and provided me with a ship.” She finally allowed herself to relax, and a wave of relief washed over her. Some of the tension she had been carrying around for weeks left her body, and she felt as though the weight on top of her had been lifted. He was alive!

And then she heard her name being called from the balcony. It was the young Baron Middleton, whom she had deserted to seek some solitude, and alongside him stood Olivia. They both gazed into the darkness of the garden, scanning the faces of the few people strolling down the paths. Amber held her breath as they called her again, releasing it when the Baron led Olivia inside, probably to look for her among the guests.

The heavy weight of despair settled back down upon her shoulders. Her body was drawn to Logan like a magnet, and she longed for nothing more than to throw herself into his arms. But she had to be realistic. She had come all this way to meet the requirements of her father’s will, and now that she was close to reaching her goal, she couldn’t give it up to be with him. No matter how much she loved him, or how much it hurt.

“Logan, I…” she paused as she sought the right words to say, “I’m glad you’re alive.”  She got to her feet and forced indifference into her voice. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to the party. My friends are looking for me.”

He stood also, looking puzzled. “You’re going inside?”

“Yes,” she said dismissively.“Why, would you like to come too? I’m sure there are plenty of eager young women who would hang on your every word.” She noticed for the first time that he was not wearing his normal sailing attire, but instead was dressed formally.

She felt her palms become damp as she took in the impressive sight of Logan in dress clothes. His hunter-green, silk waistcoat was cut short above his tight black breeches, and his green coat was so dark that she almost didn’t notice the intricate embroidery. His beard was gone again and his hair, usually left unbound, was pulled back at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. He wore no wig, as was fashionable at the time, but had replaced his boots with a pair of shiny black buckle shoes. He was striking. Even stranger, he looked comfortable dressed this way.

“What are you doing here?” his voice cut into her thoughts.

“What am I doing here? I think the better question is what are you doing here?”

His arms were crossed in front of him and a scowl appeared on his face. “I said I would find you,” he replied, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now answer me.”

“I was invited by the Whitmore family.”

She gasped as her arm was captured in his tight grip. “Whom have you met?” he demanded, ignoring her attempts to free herself.

“Let me go!”

“Whom have you met, Amber?”

“Only the Countess and her daughter,” she answered, wrenching her arm free and taking a step back. For a fraction of a second she thought he looked pained, but she blinked and it was gone. “My cousin Dominic said he was going to keep the older brothers away from me, that he didn’t trust a Whitmore as far as he could throw him.” Her lip curled in a cruel smile. “The irony is that Dom thinks I can’t take care of myself, when in fact, I’ve learned from the master.”

“Right, irony,” he mumbled. “Now enough with these games, we have to go now.”

“Go?”

“Yes,” he said, glancing around him, “we must leave before someone sees us.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Logan,” she stated with a defiant lift of her chin, her traitorous body aching to follow him like a lost puppy. “I’m staying here.”

His face swiveled around to meet her hard gaze. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

“I’m pleased to see you’re not dead, of course. However…trivial our relationship was, it would upset me to hear you had been killed.” His grey eyes blazed with anger, but she steeled herself and continued. “Be that as it may, this is my life now. I enjoyed the adventure while it lasted, but now that it’s over, I must say I’m relieved. I’m where I’ve always wanted to be. This is where I belong.”

“You belong with me.”

“With you?” she said with a bark of laughter. “I apologize if I’ve led you to believe there was something more to our relationship than a casual dalliance. You were a welcome distraction from my boredom at sea. But you must face the fact that I have returned to my rightful position in society, and am soon to be courted by the handsome Baron Middleton,” she lied, her heart breaking. She could see that she was wounding him with her words; she just had to twist the knife once more and then he would leave her forever. Anguish filled her at the thought of losing him again, but she saw no other choice.

“That is the kind of man I belong with. Not some pirate,” she said with a sneer.

Logan recoiled as if he’d been struck. And then, as she watched, he transformed into the cold pirate Captain, his face stripped of emotion. “Of course, how silly of me to assume otherwise,” he said in a callous voice. “Please accept my apologies for interrupting you. I hope I didn’t ruin your perfect evening.”

Amber blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes. Afraid that if she opened her mouth the truth would come pouring out, she gave him a jerky nod and turned. Do not cry, she commanded herself as she quickened her pace, desperate to escape. She was almost to the edge of the garden path when his voice stopped her.

“Amber, since I went through all the trouble of escaping and stealing this back from Mendoza, I wonder if you might take it off my hands for me.” She swiveled around to see him pull a sparkling diamond necklace from his coat. “May I?”

He took her stunned silence as a yes, and she watched, frozen, as he approached her with the necklace. When he was no more than a foot away he reached up and untied the strand of pearls already around her throat, letting them fall into his hand. “These are nice,” he said with disinterest, “but you’ll draw more attention wearing this.”

She could hardly breathe with him so close, his familiar scent causing her to bite the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling. He handed her the pearls and stepped around her, his body brushing hers in the process. Amber shut her eyes. She could feel the warmth of his hand as he moved aside a tendril of hair, and then the cold, heavy weight of the necklace was around her throat. Though it wasn’t tight, she felt her airway constrict as though he were chaining her into an iron neck shackle instead of a priceless piece of jewelry. Then with a final flick, the clasp was shut.

“See?  I knew if you could stand being in my presence for just a tad longer, you’d be rewarded,” he told her bitingly, the sting of his words causing her to shut her eyes even tighter. “When people ask where you got it, feel free to tell them it’s another token from a meaningless tryst. And don’t worry about me showing up on your doorstep or accosting you at another ball to get it back, I…” his voice stopped. “What’s this?  You’re wearing not one, but two necklaces?  Gotten greedier since you’ve returned, haven’t you?”

Amber’s eyes snapped open. “No!” she gasped, her hands flying to her breast to keep the ring hidden beneath her bodice. With her outburst, the tears she had been holding back began falling in earnest. Logan ignored her and freed the rest of the chain from where it was concealed beneath her dress.

“I think I’ll keep this, whatever it is,” he said as his fingers tightened around the thin gold rope. With a single tug he broke it and pulled both ends towards him. She made a final, futile grab for the chain, but he easily tore it from her grasp. “Now, lets see what you were hiding between those delectable breasts of yours…” he trailed off into silence. Amber slowly turned around to face him. His expression was unreadable; his eyes were locked on the ring where it lay in his open palm amidst the coils of the broken chain.

“You kept this?” he asked, his voice incredulous as he stared down at the gold hoop.

“I had to,” her quiet voice replied.

His eyes drew up to meet her gaze. “You lied to me.”

“Let me explain—” his lips crushing down against her mouth silenced her, as his arms surrounded her and pulled her tight against his body. He kissed her with such intensity that the wall she had tried to erect between them crumbled instantly, and she found herself obeying her body and relenting to the heat of his embrace.

“You lied to me,” he repeated, his voice a low growl against her lips.

“Please,” she begged, her hands at the back of his head, tangling in his thick dark hair and trying to pull his face closer to hers. A whimper escaped her throat as he took a step back.

A dark storm raged in his eyes as he surveyed her flushed cheeks, her parted lips. “Swear to me you’ll never lie again,” he demanded. At her quick nod he closed the distance between them and took her mouth again for another feverish kiss that left her lightheaded and swooning against him for more. His urgent hands swept along her shoulders down to the small of her back, and then even lower, bunching handfuls of her skirt and pulling her tighter.

He cupped her chin and tilted her head back, his mouth leaving hers to burn a trail of kisses down her exposed neck and chest. Her mind went blank, drunk on the heady scent of him and the sensation of his touch. She knew only the fierce need that drove her to him, the hunger that made her arch her back against his hard body, the desire to feel his skin against hers.

“You don’t know how I’ve missed you,” he whispered against her neck. “Every night I spent without you was torture.”

She opened her mouth to reply that she did know, that part of her died when Mendoza shut the door on her that fateful night, but he was kissing her again and she forgot what she was going to say. Instead, she found herself murmuring his name over and over again.

“Logan,” she breathed, grabbing the lapels of his waistcoat and pulling her hips against his erection. He groaned. “Logan, I need you.”

“I know sweetheart, I–” his head shot up, and he covered her mouth with his hand as he listened to the faint footsteps of approaching people. With his hand still in place he dragged her backwards into the shadows.

Amber watched as Dominic marched into the light, a flustered Olivia behind him, trying to keep up with his longer strides.

“Dom, slow down!  I can’t help you to look if I am running behind you,” Olivia complained, stopping in the center of the path and planting her feet. Dominic spun around angrily.

“If you hadn’t lost her we wouldn’t be out here looking at all, and I would still be inside, winning another thousand pounds off of Warwick. So shut up and keep looking, before mother discovers we’re all gone.” With a pout, Olivia followed him past the concealed couple and further down the path.

Once they were gone Logan lowered his hand from Amber’s mouth. “We can’t stay out here,” he told her as he caressed her cheek. “I can’t be seen.”

“Where can we go?”

“I think I know of a place where we can be alone,” he whispered, “if that’s what you want.”

She briefly thought about running after her cousins and letting them know she was fine, but decided against it. She needed to be with Logan. So she held out her hand to him and smiled. “Take me.”

He swept her close for one last searing kiss, and then, after checking to make sure they wouldn’t be spotted, he led her back towards the house. Instead of going in through the ballroom he quickly brought them through a dark servants’ entrance, careful to avoid the bustling kitchen as they hurried down the hall. Then he led her up a damp staircase and onto the second floor.

She stayed hidden as he ventured out to see if the hallway of the main house was deserted, and then darted through the door he held open for her. Closing it behind him, he turned the key in the lock and pocketed it.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized that they were in an expansive library. There were rows of floor to ceiling bookcases, and a window seat overlooking the garden. A large brick fireplace dominated one wall, there was a mahogany writing desk by the door, and a marble table with a chess set in the corner. Everything was decorated in rich golds and greens.

Amber would instantly have felt at ease in the room, but the heat of Logan’s stare bore into the back of her neck. Unable to ignore it, she turned to him. He lunged at her immediately, and she opened her mouth to him and his fervent kisses. His arms lifted to steady her as he pushed her further into the room, her feet shuffling backwards while her hands worked on the buttons of his coat. A jolt of pain and a wooden object pressing against the back of her knees told her that she had run into some sort of table, but Logan steered her around it with an apology, and they fell to the floor before the fire.

At once, Amber she gasped at the pleasure of having Logan’s full weight on her. She arched into him as his kisses deepened and moved from her mouth to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Desperate to feel his skin beneath her fingertips she started tugging at the cravat around his neck, struggling with the complicated knot until he loosened it and tossed it aside. Her mouth went to his newly bared flesh, nipping and sucking at his neck.

“Minx,” he rasped, pulling away from her hot mouth, and kissing her again. He reached under her back and tried to loosen the stays that held the bodice of her dress against her like a second skin, but ran into difficulty with the tight knot that her maid had tied. Before she could offer to help him, he had wrenched the dress apart with a tug. She cringed at the ripping sound, but was soon distracted as Logan freed her breasts from the boning of the corset and lowered his mouth to one, his hand curving around the other one and gently squeezing. The shocking mix of sensations was overwhelming and with a whimper she buried her fingers in his hair and thrust her breasts upwards, so he could possess them more fully.

He groaned. “Forgive me sweetheart, I have to have you. I can’t wait any longer.” He leaned back and reached beneath her skirts. He slipped off one shoe, and then the other, and her eyes fluttered closed as his hands traveled up her silk-covered legs, her anticipation growing as he grew nearer and nearer to the part of her that craved him the most.

Suddenly, he stopped. Amber prevented herself from calling out in exasperation. “What’s the matter?” she asked instead, studying his puzzled expression.

“What the hell is this…” he trailed off and lifted her skirts, his head disappearing beneath them, “metal contraption?”

“Damn it,” she cursed, remembering the wire cage around her hips. “They’re called panniers, and they make my dress wider.”

His head reappeared with a wicked grin. “I thought you looked especially fat this evening, but, being the gentleman I am, I refrained from mentioning it.” She giggled as his fingers tickled her thighs. She pushed him away.

“Stop that! They’re the newest fashion.”

“I don’t care what it is,” he said as he continued to explore the metal hoop, “how the bloody hell do I get the damned thing off?”

“You can’t take them off without first removing my dress.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “I’ll never understand ladies fashion. Whoever decided that dresses should be made to hinder the wearer from passing through a doorway without turning sideways deserves to be shot. All right, new plan.” Without warning, he grabbed her waist and rolled both of them over so she was straddling him. “Problem solved.”

“Oh my,” she whispered, her body wiggling to adjust to the new position. Then she smiled. “Just like in the bathtub?”

Logan recalled the morning after they had first made love, when she had ridden him in the bathwater, and nodded. “Just like in the bathtub. Can you lift for me, sweetheart?” he asked, and as she did he reached between their bodies and released himself from the front of his trousers. Then, holding himself in one hand and steadying her with the other, he guided her onto him.

Amber closed her eyes and shuddered, her body at once accommodating the intrusion. She had almost forgotten how large he was, but perched on top of him like this she could feel every inch of him, stretching her, filling her. With a moan of satisfaction, she began to move against him, her speed increasing rapidly as she brought herself closer to her own release. She threw back her head and braced her palms against his still-clothed chest as the heat spread to her toes, on the verge of exploding through her body with monumental force.

But Logan’s hand on her cheek stopped her, his amused voice quieting the need inside her. “Easy love, I haven’t done this in awhile. If you come apart right now I won’t be able to last, and I’ve waited too long for this to be over so soon.”

All the built-up heat rushed to her cheeks, and she smiled down at him in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for being passionate. Don’t you ever apologize. You’re beautiful when you lose yourself, and normally I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. But just for now, let’s keep it nice and slow. I want to finish with you.” She nodded and began moving again, this time at a more relaxed pace. “Ah, sweetheart, that’s perfect,” he told her as she slid up and down his hard length, punishing him with her gentleness. His hands roamed her body, pausing at her hips, her breasts, her neck, her face. He wanted to touch all of her, to feel her hot skin beneath his large hands, but he made do with that portion of her that was exposed, and instead imagined her naked, filling in from memory what he couldn’t see through the layers of her dress.

Though he had slowed her to save himself, he found that her restrained movements were just as intoxicating as when she rode him hard and fast. Drowning in her slick heat, he glanced up to see her eyes closed, her luscious lower lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated on holding back. The sight of her trying so hard to please him nearly undid him right then and there.

Logan thrust his hips upwards, impaling Amber fully and drawing a gasp from her. “Let go,” he instructed, “come for me.” The look she sent him was grateful.

As she bucked wildly against him, he felt the wave threaten to overtake him. He gritted his teeth and held it back until, with a cry, Amber convulsed around him, drawing from him his own crashing release.

She collapsed down onto his chest, heaving with exhaustion. “Breathe, sweetheart. Don’t forget to breathe,” he instructed, rubbing her back until he felt her heartbeat return to normal. “Are you all right?”

She smiled into his shirt. “Never been better. Am I squishing you?”

“Only slightly,” he grunted, shifting her so that her panniers stopped digging into his side. “That’s better.” They lay like that for several minutes; silent and happy to be in each other’s arms again, and content to ignore the consequences of their actions.

The sound of a key turning in the lock painfully brought them back to reality. Amber bolted upright as the door creaked open, her eyes shooting back and forth between Logan and the door. But as it opened, he flipped her over and pressed her down, both to hide her state of undress and to see who entered. His hand covered her mouth.

She heard a loud gasp in the doorway, followed by the sound of footsteps running from the room. From her position on the floor she could only see Logan’s face, but she knew from his expression that they were in trouble. “We need to get dressed and get out of here, now.”

“Who was it?” she asked as he stood and pulled her to her feet. “Did he see you?”

“A servant, and yes he saw me. Now we only have a few minutes before he brings the entire house back up here, so we have to hurry.” Amber responded by pulling her bodice back up and smoothing down her wrinkled skirt. Logan dropped to the floor. “Where’s my damn cravat?  Oh here it is…and here are your shoes,” he said, shoving them at her and jumping up to re-lace the back of her dress. “Don’t forget to fix your hair,” he said as he tied the best bow he could and began working on his waistcoat buttons.

“You appear to be quite practiced at this. Tell me, have you had many trysts in libraries?”

He shot her an impatient look. “Not the time or the place for this discussion, Amber.”  She was pinning her curls back into place when the door swung open and Lady Penelope waltzed in. “Oh hell,” Logan muttered, and Amber silently agreed with him.

But before she could open her mouth to apologize to the hostess of the party, and the woman whose library she had been found in a compromising situation, the tall woman directed her stern gaze in her direction and demanded, “where have you been?”

Amber’s faced burned red. “My lady, I’m sorry. I…uh…desired to explore the rest of your beautiful house, and I ran into this gentleman here…” she stopped when the older woman held up a hand.

“I’m not looking for an excuse from you, Amber dear, though your family has been quite worried about you. I was speaking to him.”

Confused, Amber turned to Logan. She was shocked to find him looking extremely uncomfortable, bewildering her further. His mouth opened and closed several times like a fish out of water, and he rocked back and forth on his heels. Growing tired of waiting for a response, Lady Penelope asked another question: “Do you know how long it has been?”

Logan swallowed loudly and cleared his throat. “A few months?”

“Two and a half years!”

Logan cringed. “Time got away from me?”

Penelope crossed her arms in a gesture that Amber found somehow familiar. “Time got away from you, did it? Are you aware that half of London believes you to be dead?”

“Did you tell them I had died?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed. “When the rumors started circulating, we did our best to ignore them. After a while, people stopped asking.”

Amber listened to the back and forth between Logan and the older woman, a faint buzz echoing through her head. It was almost as if a swarm of bees were flying around inside her skull. She did her best to ignore them.

“I am glad to see you removed that awful earring, although I wish you would do something about your hair.”

Just then, Georgina ran into the library and, with a squeal of delight, threw herself into Logan’s arms without hesitation. “It is you! I knew you’d come back.”

Logan smiled again for the first time since the Countess had entered the room. Putting Georgina back on the ground, he ruffled her hair. “I suppose I couldn’t avoid you forever, Munchkin.”

Georgina beamed. “And Amber, there you are!  Everyone’s been looking for you. Oh my, you look quite pale. Do you need to sit down? Are you going to faint?”

“Nonsense,” Amber replied in a meek voice, the buzzing in her head getting louder, “I’ve never fainted in my life, and I don’t plan to start now.”

Penelope smiled. “Well that is a relief, dear. Now, would you care to explain how you two know each other?  I assume you did not just meet tonight,” she said with a perceptive look at their disheveled appearances.

Logan went back to looking nervous, something that Georgina failed to notice. “I bet he did something brave and wild, like capture her ship and take her prisoner!  I bet he killed her entire crew in cold blood and without mercy!”

Amber watched as Logan’s face turned a vibrant shade of red, and he tugged at his loosely tied cravat as if it were a noose around his neck. Unfortunately, Penelope observed it too. “Oh Logan,” she said with a sigh, “you didn’t?”

“What?  That’s…I…she…well I didn’t murder the crew!”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

Amber wasn’t certain whether she was experiencing an earthquake (which was unlikely, as they were in London) or simply whether the bones in her legs had turned to jelly, but the effort of keeping herself standing upright was becoming harder and harder. She gripped the edge of the settee for support.

“Are you certain you don’t need to sit down?  Perhaps a glass of water?” Georgina asked.

She shook her head, causing the bees to become angry and buzz even louder. Her vision swam a bit. “I would appreciate it if someone would tell me what is going—” Her words died as a large man strode into the room, and with a whoosh all the air vanished. She struggled to take her next breath as the tall, dark haired stranger moved to stand next to Penelope, never once taking his grey eyes off of Logan.

“When did you arrive?”

“Just this morning, sir,” Logan answered with military precision.

The older man nodded. “Got rid of the earring, I see. A slight improvement. Though your hair is a tad unruly.” His piercing gaze shifted to Amber, as if seeing her for the first time. “Are you going to introduce us, Logan?  Or did you throw your manners overboard when you were off exploring the world?”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me. My Lord, this is Lady Amber Townsend, daughter of the late Lord Robert Townsend. Amber, might I present the Right Honorable, the Earl of Granville. My father.”

Amber, for the first time in her life, fainted.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The still waters of the sea held the Imperial Shadow steady in its grasp, cradling it with a maternal tenderness and gently rocking the people on board to sleep. Among them was Amber, dozing in the main cabin. A creaking noise and the rush of cool, salty air on her face alerted her that something was amiss. Opening her eyes, she saw a dark figure creeping towards the bed, the window ajar behind him. Her body leapt into action, scrambling for any weapon to defend herself, but before she could reach one the figure was upon her.

A hand was clamped over her mouth to silence her screams, and another sought to grab her flailing limbs, but not before she made contact with her attacker’s face. There was a stream of obscenities from the figure. Then both her hands were captured in his firm hold and she became aware that he was speaking, repeating a word.

Her name.

“Amber! Amber wake up, it’s me.” Hearing the familiar voice she awoke, this time in her bed at her aunt’s house. She stopped lashing out and peered up at Logan, who stood above her with his hand still over her mouth. As he removed it, her pulse returned to normal and she began breathing regularly.

Seeing her calm, he lifted a hand to his cheek, where a red welt had begun to form. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t attack me anymore.”

Fully awake now and aware of her surroundings, she found her temper flaring. She hadn’t seen him since earlier that evening after the confrontation with his parents. Once she had been revived from her unprecedented fainting episode, Logan’s family had whisked him away to catch up on what had apparently been a two and a half year absence. He had had only enough time to send her an apologetic glance before they were separated and she was ushered downstairs to find her worried relatives.

After avoiding most of their questions on the carriage ride home, Amber excused herself and went upstairs to her bedroom, undressed, and got into bed. It had taken her hours to fall asleep, and only to be awakened again in the most unpleasant manner, so she was feeling quite irate.

“Yes, well I’d appreciate a little warning the next time you attempt to surprise me with your sudden appearance. My body is having difficulty dealing with the stress.”

His hand dropped to his side, the redness on his face already fading to a dull pink. “Then let me be the first to tell you I’ll be returning tomorrow morning, bright and early, to ask your uncle for your hand in marriage.”

Amber gasped as a gust of wind blew the unhinged window open, causing her to shiver. “Marriage?”

“You must have known this would be the consequence of being caught in a compromising situation, didn’t you?” He crossed to the window and pulled it closed, locking it against the impending storm. He returned to the bed and sat beside her. “When we spoke about marriage on the Shadow you were just as appalled by the idea as you are now. Are you against the institution itself, or is it just me you disagree with? Would I really make such a terrible husband?”

“The only thing wrong with marriage is that you expect me to marry a stranger.”

“A stranger?” Logan reeled back, looking shocked. “Amber, it’s me.”

She shrugged off the hand he tried to put on her shoulder and stood. “I don’t even know who you are! I let you into my heart, and you couldn’t even trust me enough to confide in me the most important thing about yourself: your identity. How can I ever trust you now? You have a family, Logan, a wonderful, caring family, and you let me believe that you were a pirate…” she froze. “Hold on, is that even what you are?  How does your family feel about you murdering and plundering?

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “If we’re getting technical about titles, then no, I’m not a real pirate. I’m a privateer.”

“A what?”

“A privateer. Essentially, I’m a legal pirate for hire, under the employment of England.”

She threw up her hands. “Perfect! So you rape and pillage for Queen and Country, is that correct?”

“Amber,” he growled, “I am not a bloody Viking, and I’ve never raped anyone. Now will you keep your voice down?  You’re going to wake up the entire house, and the last thing we need is to be caught in flagrante delicto twice in one evening. Now listen,” he said, cutting her off, “my methods may have been unorthodox but I did what I thought was best to protect my country, both physically and economically.”

She crossed her arms. “So you admit you’re British now? Do you have an accent?”

He sighed, and abandoned his accent for an English one. “Would you prefer if I did?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want me to do? How can I make this right?”

“Just tell me why.”

He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. Outside, rain had begun to fall. “Why what?”

“Why do you do it? Why would you leave your stable life, your loving family and just sail away? You are the eldest son of an earl, and with that comes responsibilities. How could you abandon them?”

“Damn it, because I’m not the oldest son!” Logan cried. “Or, at least I wasn’t supposed to be.”

Astounded by his sudden outburst, and starving to learn anything about his life before her, Amber sat beside him and took his hand, waiting for him to continue. “It was a long time ago. His name was Marcus, and he was three years older than me. He was so serious, so righteous and so damn perfect—and so very unlike me. I was a devilish child, always looking for trouble and always finding it tenfold.

“Marcus and I were never close, but I did love him. I also secretly admired him. I envied the way he got on with my father, and how easy it was for him to be the impeccable son. He died when I was eighteen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was no one’s fault really, save his own. He was walking down the street one night, most likely having given up his cab to a poor, destitute family, when he came across a woman in the alley being accosted by three men.”

“And he tried to save her? Perhaps you aren’t so different after all,” she said, remembering the way he had protected her in Tortuga.

“Yes, but I would have just killed the bastards up front and gotten it over with. Marcus,” he asserted, rolling his eyes, “tried to reason with them. He found himself with a bullet in his stomach. According to the girl, he drew his sword and gutted one of the men and scared the other two away before he bled out. She stayed with him until he died, and then she confessed the entire story to the police, who alerted my father.

She squeezed his hand. “What happened then?”

“While my family grieved I hunted down the two men who had escaped and killed them. My father has never mentioned it, but when their bodies were found in the Thames I could swear he looked at me approvingly. To this day, he is the only person who knows it was I who avenged my brother’s death. But it changed nothing. Marcus was gone, and I was suddenly the eldest son. I was young and I was reckless. I had just turned eighteen; I had discovered women, alcohol and gambling, and I found the shoes I was supposed to be filling were too big for me. My parents never expressed their disappointment, but I knew that if I stayed at home I would do something to embarrass my family. So I left and joined the Navy.”

“How did you become a pirate?” He raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, how did you become a privateer?”

“I fought in the Navy for several years and, despite my insubordinate attitude, quickly climbed the ranks until I was Captain of my own ship. I suppose my wild approach was gaining attention, for after seven months I was called before the Queen and offered a new position.”

“You met the Queen? What was she like?”

“Would you like to hear about the Queen, or would you like me to continue with this damn story I know you’re so eager to hear?” When she expressed her desire for him to continue, he laughed and pulled her across his lap. “That’s what I thought. Now, I had to appear to be a real pirate for the plan to work, so for a while, I was. I joined a crew and began stirring discontent about their own Captain until they mutinied and put me in charge. It was a small ship but it was powerful, and I used it to commandeer a larger Spanish ship, and then I used that one to take down an even more powerful one, and so on until I had the Imperial Shadow, a crew I could trust, and a reputation.”

“And the name el Tigre?”

“One of my first marks was a corrupt Navy ship that was smuggling goods to Spain. As we pulled alongside her, I recognized several of the men, including the Captain. Not wanting to be recognized myself, I did the only thing I could think of at the time to disguise myself: I stuck my fingers into a barrel of sealing tar and streaked it across my face. Not only did it keep my identity hidden, but it also worked effectively as a scare tactic. I used it for several months until I grew tired of scrubbing the damn stuff off, but by then the name had caught on and I found I no longer needed it.”

“How would you know which ships to take?”

“I would meet with agents of the crown who would give me a list. Your ship was on my most recent one.”

Amber peered up into his face. “The Queen Charlotte? What could poor Captain Watson have done to upset the British Government?”

“Your beloved Captain Watson was smuggling documents back and forth between the colonies and Great Britain, conspiring against the Queen.”

“Oh, I had no idea!”

“Of course you didn’t. I’m not sure even his men knew what his true purpose was. In any case, he’s finished now and we can put the whole event behind us and move on.” Amber shifted restlessly on his lap. He gave her a quizzical look. “Or are we not moving on?”

“Since you were finally honest with me, I have a secret of my own to confess.”

He shifted her off of his lap and onto the bed beside him. “Amber, are you…” Following his gaze down to her belly, covered by the folds of her nightgown, she laughed.

“Pregnant? No, it’s not that, don’t worry.”  She ignored what appeared to be disappointment cross his face, and continued. “That first time you asked me to marry you, back on the ship, it took everything I had to say no. I wanted to say yes, I truly did. But because of who I was and who I thought you were I had to turn you down, and it was excruciatingly difficult.”

“I remember that day well. You wanted me to believe you detested me and tried your hardest to convince me it was true. Why?”

“Because I was afraid that if you knew how much I truly cared you would force the wedding, and then my uncle would find out about the will and I would lose everything.”

“Sweetheart, what will are you talking about?”

“My father wrote a second will before he died, and concealed it. My mother kept it a secret from me until she was on her own deathbed, probably because she never thought she would die before seeing me married.” She took a deep breath. “The will stated that should my mother die before I was wed, the total control of the Townsend family estates would be turned over to my guardian.” She looked up at him, and saw that he was listening intently. “I assume my father intended for his own family to look after me in that situation, but because my mother moved to the colonies, guardianship was granted to her brother Neil, my uncle. He…he’s an awful man. He’s addicted to alcohol and gambling, and more than once we caught him stealing from our house to pay off his debts. If he discovered that my mother’s estate now belonged to him, he would dismiss the help and tear apart the house, piece by piece until there was nothing left. I couldn’t let that happen to everything my mother worked so hard for and took so much pride in. So I left right away without telling Neil about the will, and boarded a ship sailing for England to find a husband.”

“What stopped you from searching for one in Boston, or marrying me when I asked?”

“Because the will also stated that my future husband must be in possession of a title equal to or greater than my own.”

He took her hand in his. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“For the same reason you neglected to tell me you were the son of an Earl. We both wanted to forget who we were, and what responsibilities waited for us at the other end of our journey.”

He was silent as he thought about this. Then he asked, “Do you have the will with you?”

She nodded and stood, wrapping a dressing gown around herself as she walked over to the writing desk. She took A Midsummer Night’s Dream down, opened it to the front cover and freed the will from behind the lining. She handed it to Logan and rejoined him on the bed.

“So you left before showing this to anyone?” he asked after studying the document for several minutes.

“I thought if I could find a husband as soon as possible, Neil would never even have to know what was lawfully his. I left things in the capable hands of Maxwell, our family butler.”

“I wish you had shown me this earlier,” he told her with a smile.

“Why?”

“Because not only would I have told you about my damn title, but I would have been able to point out that this isn’t a legally binding document.”

She snatched the paper from his hands. “What do you mean?”

“There are no signatures at the bottom, by his hand or any witnesses. It also fails to renounce the first will, which I assume was read at the time of his death. All of these factors invalidate this as a proper will.”

“Are you absolutely certain of this?”

“I read a number of books about law after joining the navy, trying to convince myself that once my wanderlust had faded I’d be able to settle down to a normal job.”

Amber was quiet for several minutes. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “So you mean to tell me that this piece of paper is just—”

“A piece of paper, yes. I assumed you’d be happy to hear it,” he confessed.

“I’m not certain how I feel. On the one hand, I am elated that I no longer have to worry about my uncle. But you have to understand that I’m just now finding out that my motivations since reading the will, everything that has brought me to this point, have been misguided and wrong. I’m embarrassed and disappointed and ecstatic all at once.” She buried her head in her hands. “I am such a fool. I never even thought to have the will looked at.”

“But then you never would have met me,” he said with a smile.

Amber groaned. “Oh yes, meeting you has done wonders to uncomplicate my life.”

Laughing, Logan placed an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t suppose it has, no. But we’ve had a bit of fun, haven’t we?” Amber lifted her head up to stare at him. Then, without saying a word, she slid out of her dressing gown and pulled her shift over her head. A flash of lightning illuminated her naked body in the dark room. “Amber, dear, what are you doing?”

“Something uncomplicated,” she replied as she began unbuttoning his shirt. His hands stayed her progress.

“Are you certain you want this right now? You’ve had a long, emotionally confusing day.”

“That’s why I need this. I’m tired of thinking, and for now I just want to feel.”

He nodded in understanding, and then he was kissing her, his hand dropping away to let her continue disrobing him. When she had finished with his shirt, he stripped off his boots and pants and pushed her gently back onto the bed.

As the rain pounded against the window he made love to her with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes, the storm fading into the background as they moved together as one. They were deaf to the claps of thunder rumbling through the night. They found no need for the brief flashes that spotlighted their intertwined bodies. In those moments they were the only two people in the world, and that was all they needed.

Earlier they had been starved for each other’s touch, but now they were able to take their time, exploring and caressing one another without a sense of urgency. The build up was so gradual that Amber’s release caught her off guard. With a cry of surprise, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer as the waves rolled through her body, leaving her weak and shaking. Logan’s own shuddering climax followed a moment later.

Satiated, they lay there in a tangle of arms and legs, unwilling to move and break the spell that had been cast over them. Finally Logan rolled onto his side and gathered her in his arms, kissing her on top of her head.

“The storm passed,” Amber noticed as she snuggled up closer to him, placing her head on his warm chest.

“Hm?” He looked out the window and saw the water running down the glass. “Oh. I hadn’t noticed that it was raining.”

There was a quiet knock at the door and Amber jumped to her feet in panic. “Hide!” she hissed, snatching up her dressing gown and pulling it around her to hide her nakedness. When she turned back to the bed Logan was gone.

Taking a deep breath she opened the door a crack and peeked out. Her cousin was standing in the hallway, holding a candle and looking concerned.

“Olivia, what are you doing up at this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep because of the storm, and I was on my way downstairs to fetch a glass of milk when I thought I heard voices coming from your room. Is everything all right?” she asked, trying to peer around the doorframe. Amber moved to block her cousin’s view and smiled.

“Of course everything is all right,” she affirmed. “It’s no longer storming out, so why don’t you go back to your room and try and get some sleep?”

Olivia looked unconvinced. “You’re certain you aren’t hiding anything in there? Or anyone?”

“I’m certain,” Amber replied, and with a prayer that Logan was still hidden she swung the door open to reveal her empty room. Olivia stepped inside and looked around, using her candle as a light source. When she couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary she shrugged and went back into the hallway.

“I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s all right,” Amber told her with a forced smile.

“I guess I’ll just go back to bed then. Goodnight.” With a frown, she turned and shuffled down the hallway, her shoulders sagging.

“You can come out now,” Amber announced as she closed her door and locked it. She jumped when she turned and discovered Logan already sitting on the bed, having materialized seemingly out of nowhere. She swiveled around in search of his hiding spot. “How did you…oh, never mind.” With a groan she collapsed next to him.

“Was that your cousin?”

“Yes. She claimed she heard voices from in here, and when she didn’t find anyone else I could swear she looked disappointed. Is it possible she knew you were here?”

“I would say it’s extremely possible.” Her dressing gown slipped down, revealing her bare shoulder and the top of her breast. Logan reached for her.

“Stop it,” she chastised, slapping his hand away and tugging the fabric back into place. “Now what makes you say that?”

Logan lay back with a sigh. “Because she was the one who told me which window was yours.”

Amber reeled back. “She did? When? Why?”

He laughed and rolled onto his side, resting his head on his hand. “She approached me when I was with my father and demanded to speak to me. I could hardly say no to my kid sister’s best friend.”

Realization dawned on her as she remembered something from earlier that evening. “We were climbing into the carriage when she said she had forgotten something and ran back inside!  What did she say to you?”

“She said that if I loved you, I had better come to your room tonight.”

Amber’s heart leapt into her throat and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. “You love me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He intertwined his strong fingers through her shaking ones and gave her an affectionate smile. “Ah, sweetheart, you didn’t know?”

Tears burned behind her eyes. “I’d always hoped, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it was true. I thought it would make it easier when you left me. But when I thought you were dead,” her voice broke, “there was an emptiness inside of me, and I spent every day wishing I had told you how much I cared for you.”

His face was sad as he spoke. “I’m sorry I ever caused you pain, Amber. But I’m here now, and I’m going to make it up to you, I promise.”

She wiped away a tear. “How?”

“By marrying you. When I was being held prisoner I had a lot of time to reflect, and thoughts of you were what made me strong, got me through it. I realized that a life without you in it was meaningless. The adventure I was living seemed so dull and lackluster when compared to the way my heart fills with happiness when I see you. I could give it all up, and start a new adventure with you, as husband and wife. Let me protect you, let me take care of you. Let me love you.”

“Oh, Logan,” she breathed, melting into his arms and beaming with happiness.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How wonderful it feels to be loved by a roguish pirate, even if he happens to be naked at the time of his confession.”

He looked down at himself. “I suppose I am thoroughly compromised. Now you’ll have to marry me.”  He smiled at her. “And if you still don’t say yes I’ll have to carry you around town, kicking and screaming until you relent!”  She shrieked as he swiftly threw her over his bare shoulder and began marching around the room.

Amber laughed. “Put me down, you big ape. Of course I’ll marry you!”

“You will?”  He carried her over to the bed and laid her in the middle.

“Yes, now come here before you wake the entire house!”

Logan located his pants and slipped into them, then stretched beside her on the bed. “I’m glad you said yes, so I can give this back to you,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the ring that he had taken from her earlier that night. He slid it onto her finger.

“I’ll come back tomorrow morning to ask you officially, but on one condition.”

“And what’s that?” she asked, curling her fingers through his.

“You still haven’t told me if you love me too.”

She grinned wickedly. “Ah sweetheart, you didn’t know?”

Epilogue

Logan sat waiting in the carriage, impatiently tapping his foot. He was still wearing his silk suit, and in the midday heat he was beginning to grow uncomfortably hot. Where was Amber?

It had been two weeks since he had approached her uncle to ask for her hand, and they had been wed this morning in a small ceremony. She had looked stunning in a blue dress with white embroidered roses to match the bouquet she carried, and the fresh flowers woven through her hair. Around her neck she had worn the opulent diamond necklace.

But the wedding had been hours ago, and now he was waiting for her so they could begin the two-hour drive into the country, where they would be honeymooning in one of his father’s manors. What he hadn’t told Amber was that the estate and grounds had been the Earl’s gift to the couple, and though he longed for the Imperial Shadow he was prepared to settle down with her anywhere. He had finished loading their trunks onto the carriage when she exclaimed she needed to do one last thing, and darted back inside. That had been a quarter of an hour ago, and he was getting restless.

Suddenly a shot rang out, the carriage rocking back and forth as the team of horses whinnied and bucked in fear. “What the hell?” Logan lunged for the door. Where was Amber?  Was she all right? He wrenched it open and found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol.

On the other end of the gun stood Amber.

“Stay where you are, pirate,” she said with a vicious grin. “And if you so much as think about reaching for the knife in your boot I will shoot you without hesitation.” She had changed from her wedding dress into a pair of breeches, a billowing white shirt, and a tall pair of black boots. Her hair was tied back from her face with a red scarf, and a large gold hoop hung from her ear.

“Who are you?” Logan asked as he backed up into the carriage, attempting to hide his smile.

“My enemies call me la Tigresa.”

“Ah, the tigress, I should have been expecting you. What do you want from me? I am supposed to be on my honeymoon.”

She climbed up and sat across from him, holstering her gun in the leather baldric around her waist. “Yes, so your beautiful new wife told me. She also mentioned you might have a ship docked offshore.”

“Did she? What else did she tell you?”

“She mentioned that you were taking her to the country to celebrate, and that she was worried it was going to be a dreadful bore. So she suggested that I kidnap you instead, for a bit of fun.”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh. “She would say that. Now, supposing I do lead you to my ship. Where are we going?”

Amber smiled and climbed across the seat to sit on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him squarely on the mouth. “On an adventure.”

About the Author

Passion’s Tide began with the title. A cringe-worthy, heaving bosoms/throbbing manhood kind of title, one that so perfectly fit the romance novel genre that Sarah, then a Freshman in college, couldn’t help but write the story to accompany it. Having lovingly read hundreds (if not thousands) of the books herself, she thought it would be a simple process of putting pen to paper and creating a vivid story. Turns out, it was a lot harder than that. But over five years later, it is finally done.

Sarah has a degree in Neuroscience and Behavior, and works doing research into brain aging and disease. In her spare time, she is an avid cook and photographer. Check out her blog at www.DashandaPinch.com, or email her at DashandaPinch@gmail.com. She loves to hear from readers!